THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Jo  Sterling 


MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S 
MEDIATION 


BY 

BRET  HARTE 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 

(fffe  fftoerjfi&e  Pre^^,  Cambnboe 

1899 


COPYRIGHT,    1899,   BY   BRET   HARTB 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


CONTENTS 


PAGB 

MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION  ....  1 
THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE  ....  59 
AN  ESMERALDA  OF  ROCKY  CANON  ...  94 
DICK  SPINDLER'S  FAMILY  CHRISTMAS  .  .  .121 
WHEN  THE  WATERS  WERE  UP  AT  "  JULES'  "  .  156 
THE  BOOM  in  THE  "  CALAVERAS  CLARION"  .  192 
THE  SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S  WELL  .  .  .227 
LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY  .  255 


8S2316 


MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

AT  nightfall  it  began  to  rain.  The  wind 
arose  too,  and  also  began  to  buffet  a  small, 
struggling,  nondescript  figure,  creeping  along 
the  trail  over  the  rocky  upland  meadow  to- 
wards Rylands's  rancho.  At  times  its  head 
was  hidden  in  what  appeared  to  be  wings 
thrown  upward  from  its  shoulders ;  at  times 
its  broad-brimmed  hat  was  cocked  jauntily 
on  one  side,  and  again  the  brim  was  fixed 
over  the  face  like  a  visor.  At  one  moment 
a  drifting  misshapen  mass  of  drapery,  at  the 
next  its  vague  garments,  beaten  back  hard 
against  the  figure,  revealed  outlines  far  too 
delicate  for  that  rude  enwrapping.  For  it 
was  Mrs.  Rylands  herself,  in  her  husband's 
hat  and  her  "  hired  man's  "  old  blue  army 
overcoat,  returning  from  the  post-office  two 
miles  away.  The  wind  continued  its  aggres- 
sion until  she  reached  the  front  door  of  her 
newly  plastered  farmhouse,  and  then  a  heavier 
blast  shook  the  pines  above  the  low-pitched, 
shingled  roof,  and  sent  a  shower  of  arrowy 


2         MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

drops  after  her  like  a  Parthian  parting,  as 
she  entered.  She  threw  aside  the  overcoat 
and  hat,  and  somewhat  inconsistently  entered 
the  sitting-room,  to  walk  to  the  window  and 
look  back  upon  the  path  she  had  just  trav- 
ersed. The  wind  and  the  rain  swept  down  a 
slope,  half  meadow,  half  clearing,  —  a  mile 
away,  —  to  a  fringe  of  sycamores.  A  mile 
further  lay  the  stage  road,  where,  three 
hours  later,  her  husband  would  alight  on 
his  return  from  Sacramento.  It  would  be  a 
long  wet  walk  for  Joshua  Rylands,  as  their 
only  horse  had  been  borrowed  by  a  neigh- 
bor". 

In  that  fading  light  Mrs.  Rylands's  oval 
cheek  was  shining  still  from  the  raindrops, 
but  there  was  something  in  the  expression 
of  her  worried  face  that  might  have  as  readily 
suggested  tears.  She  was  strikingly  hand- 
some, yet  quite  as  incongruous  an  ornament 
to  her  surroundings  as  she  had  been  to  her 
outer  wrappings  a  moment  ago.  Even  the 
clothes  she  now  stood  in  hinted  an  inadapta- 
bility to  the  weather  —  the  house  —  the 
position  she  occupied  hi  it.  A  figured  silk 
dress,  spoiled  rather  than  overworn,  was  still 
of  a  quality  inconsistent  with  her  evident 


ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION        3 

habits,  and  the  lace-edged  petticoat  that 
peeped  beneath  it  was  draggled  with  mud 
and  unaccustomed  usage.  Her  glossy  black 
hair,  which  had  been  tossed  into  curls  in 
some  foreign  fashion,  was  now  wind-blown 
into  a  burlesque  of  it.  This  incongruity 
was  still  further  accented  by  the  appearance 
of  the  room  she  had  entered.  It  was  coldly 
and  severely  furnished,  making  the  chill  of 
the  yet  damp  white  plaster  unpleasantly 
obvious.  A  black  harmonium  organ  stood 
in  one  corner,  set  out  with  black  and  white 
hymn-books  ;  a  trestle-like  table  contained  a 
large  Bible ;  half  a  dozen  black,  horsehair- 
cushioned  chairs  stood,  geometrically  dis- 
tant, against  the  walls,  from  which  hung 
four  engravings  of  "  Paradise  Lost  "  in  black 
mourning  frames ;  some  dried  ferns  and 
autumn  leaves  stood  in  a  vase  on  the  mantel- 
piece, as  if  the  chill  of  the  room  had  pre- 
maturely blighted  them.  The  coldly  glitter- 
ing grate  below  was  also  decorated  with 
withered  sprays,  as  if  an  attempt  had  been 
made  to  burn  them,  but  was  frustrated 
through  damp.  Suddenly  recalled  to  a  sense 
of  her  wet  boots  and  the  new  carpet,  she 
hurriedly  turned  away,  crossed  the  hall  into 


4        ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

the  dining-room,  and  thence  passed  into  the 
kitchen.  The  "  hired  girl,"  a  large-boned 
Missourian,  a  daughter  of  a  neighboring 
woodman,  was  peeling  potatoes  at  the  table. 
Mrs.  Rylands  drew  a  chair  before  the  kitchen 
stove,  and  put  her  wet  feet  on  the  hob. 

"  I  '11  bet  a  cooky,  Mess  Rylands,  you  've 
done  forgot  the  vanillar,"  said  the  girl,  with  a 
certain  domestic  and  confidential  familiarity. 

Mrs.  Rylands  started  guiltily.  She  made 
a  miserable  feint  of  looking  in  her  lap  and 
on  the  table.  "  I  'm  afraid  I  did,  Jane,  if 
I  did  n't  bring  it  in  here." 

"  That  you  did  n't,"  returned  Jane.  "  And 
I  reckon  ye  forgot  that  'ar  pepper-sauce  for 
yer  husband." 

Mrs.  Rylands  looked  up  with  piteous  con- 
trition. "  I  really  don't  know  what 's  the 
matter  with  me.  I  certainly  went  into  the 
shop,  and  had  it  on  my  list,  —  and  — 
really  "  — 

Jane  evidently  knew  her  mistress,  and 
smiled  with  superior  toleration.  "  It 's 
kinder  bewilderin'  goin'  in  them  big  shops, 
and  lookin'  round  them  stuffed  shelves." 
The  shop  at  the  cross  roads  and  post-office 
was  14  x  14,  but  Jane  was  nurtured  on  the 


MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION        5 

plains.  "  Anyhow,"  she  added  good-hu- 
moredly,  "  the  expressman  is  sure  to  look 
in  as  he  goes  by,  and  you  've  time  to  give 
him  the  order." 

"  But  is  he  sure  to  come  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Eylands  anxiously.  "  Mr.  Rylands  will  be 
so  put  out  without  his  pepper-sauce." 

"  He  's  sure  to  come  ef  he  knows  you  're 
here.  Ye  kin  always  kalkilate  on  that." 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Rylands  abstractedly. 

"  Why?  'cause  he  just  can't  keep  his  eyes 
off  ye  !  That 's  why  he  comes  every  day,  — 
't  ain't  jest  for  trade  !  " 

This  was  quite  true,  not  only  of  the  ex- 
pressman, but  of  the  butcher  and  baker, 
and  the  "  candlestick-maker,"  had  there  been 
so  advanced  a  vocation  at  the  cross  roads. 
All  were  equally  and  curiously  attracted 
by  her  picturesque  novelty.  Mrs.  Rylands 
knew  this  herself,  but  without  vanity  or 
coquettishness.  Possibly  that  was  why  the 
other  woman  told  her.  She  only  slightly 
deepened  the  lines  of  discontent  in  her  cheek 
and  said  abstractedly,  "  Well,  when  he  comes, 
you  ask  him." 

She  dried  her  shoes,  put  on  a  pair  of  slip- 
pers that  had  a  faded  splendor  about  them, 


6         ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

and  went  up  to  her  bedroom.  Here  she 
hesitated  for  some  time  between  the  sewing- 
machine  and  her  knitting-needles,  but  finally 
settled  upon  the  latter,  and  a  pair  of  socks 
for  her  husband  which  she  had  begun  a  year 
ago.  But  she  presently  despaired  of  finish- 
ing them  before  he  returned,  three  hours 
hence,  and  so  applied  herself  to  the  sewing- 
machine.  For  a  little  while  its  singing  hum 
was  heard  between  the  blasts  that  shook  the 
house,  but  the  thread  presently  snapped, 
and  the  machine  was  put  aside  somewhat 
impatiently,  with  a  discontented  drawing 
of  the  lines  around  her  handsome  mouth. 
Then  she  began  to  "  tidy  "  the  room,  putting 
a  great  many  things  away  and  bringing  out 
a  great  many  more,  a  process  that  was  neces- 
sarily slow,  owing  to  her  falling  into  atti- 
tudes of  minute  inspection  of  certain  articles 
of  dress,  with  intervals  of  trying  them  on, 
and  observing  their  effect  in  her  mirror. 
This  kind  of  interruption  also  occurred 
while  she  was  putting  away  some  books  that 
were  lying  about  on  chairs  and  tables,  stop- 
ping midway  to  open  their  pages,  becoming 
interested,  and  quite  finishing  one  chapter, 
with  the  book  held  close  against  the  window 


MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION         1 

to  catch  the  fading  light  of  day.  The  fem- 
inine reader  will  gather  from  this  that  Mrs. 
Rylands,  though  charming,  was  not  facile  in 
domestic  duties.  She  had  just  glanced  at 
the  clock,  and  lit  the  candle  to  again  set 
herself  to  work,  and  thus  bridge  over  the 
two  hours  more  of  waiting,  when  there  came 
a  tap  at  the  door.  She  opened  it  to  Jane. 

"  There  's  an  entire  stranger  downstairs, 
ez  hez  got  a  lame  hoss  and  wants  to  borry  a 
fresh  one." 

"  We  have  none,  you  know,"  said  Mrs. 
Rylands,  a  little  impatiently. 

"Thet's  what  I  told  him.  Then  he 
wanted  to  know  ef  he  could  lie  by  here  till 
he  could  get  one  or  fix  up  his  own  hoss." 

"  As  you  like  ;  you  know  if  you  can  man- 
age it,"  said  Mrs.  Rylands,  a  little  uneasily. 
"  When  Mr.  Rylands  comes  you  can  arrange 
it  between  you.  Where  is  he  now  ?  " 

"  In  the  kitchen." 

"  The  kitchen !  "  echoed  Mrs.  Rylands. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  showed  him  into  the  par- 
lor, but  he  kinder  shivered  his  shoulders, 
and  reckoned  ez  how  he  'd  go  inter  the 
kitchen.  Ye  see,  ma'am,  he  was  all  wet, 
and  his  shiny  big  boots  was  sloppy.  But  he 


8         MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

ain't  one  o'  the  stuck-up  kind,  and  he 's 
willin'  to  make  hisself  comf'ble  before  the 
kitchen  stove." 

"Well,  then,  he  don't  want  me,"  said 
Mrs.  Rylands,  with  a  relieved  voice. 

"  Yes  'm,"  said  Jane,  apparently  equally 
relieved.  "  Only,  I  thought  I  'd  just  tell 
you." 

A  few  minutes  later,  in  crossing  the  upper 
hall,  Mrs.  Rylands  heard  Jane's  voice  from 
the  kitchen  raised  in  rustic  laughter.  Had 
she  been  satirically  inclined,  she  might  have 
understood  Jane's  willingness  to  relieve  her 
mistress  of  the  duty  of  entertaining  the 
stranger;  had  she  been  philosophical,  she 
might  have  considered  the  girl's  dreary, 
monotonous  life  at  the  rancho,  and  made 
allowance  for  her  joy  at  this  rare  interrup- 
tion of  it.  But  I  fear  that  Mrs.  Rylands 
was  neither  satirical  nor  philosophical,  and 
presently,  when  Jane  reentered,  with  color 
in  her  alkaline  face,  and  light  in  her  huckle- 
berry eyes,  and  said  she  was  going  over  to 
the  cattle-sheds  in  the  "  far  pasture,"  to  see 
if  the  hired  man  did  n't  know  of  some  horse 
that  could  be  got  for  the  stranger,  Mrs.  Ry- 
lands felt  a  little  bitterness  in  the  thought 


MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION         9 

that  the  girl  would  have  scarcely  volunteered 
to  go  all  that  distance  in  the  rain  for  her. 
Yet,  in  a  few  moments  she  forgot  all  about 
it,  and  even  the  presence  of  her  guest  in  the 
house,  and  in  one  of  her  fitful  abstracted 
employments  passed  through  the  dining-room 
into  the  kitchen,  and  had  opened  the  door 
with  an  "  Oh,  Jane ! "  before  she  remem- 
bered her  absence. 

The  kitchen,  lit  by  a  single  candle,  could 
be  only  partly  seen  by  her  as  she  stood  with 
her  hand  on  the  lock,  although  she  herself 
was  plainly  visible.  There  was  a  pause,  and 
then  a  quiet,  self-possessed,  yet  amused, 
voice  answered :  — 

"  My  name  is  n't  Jane,  and  if  you  're  the 
lady  of  the  house,  I  reckon  yours  was  n't 
always  Rylands." 

At  the  sound  of  the  voice  Mrs.  Rylands 
threw  the  door  wide  open,  and  as  her  eyes 
fell  upon  the  speaker  —  her  unknown  guest 
—  she  recoiled  with  a  little  cry,  and  a  white, 
startled  face.  Yet  the  stranger  was  young 
and  handsome,  dressed  with  a  scrupulous- 
ness and  elegance  which  even  the  stress  of 
travel  had  not  deranged,  and  he  was  looking 
at  her  with  a  smile  of  recognition,  mingled 


10      MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

with  that  careless  audacity  and  self-posses- 
sion which  seemed  to  be  the  characteristic 
of  his  face. 

"Jack  Hamlin! "  she  gasped. 

"  That 's  me,  all  the  time,"  he  responded 
easily,  "  and  you  're  Nell  Montgomery !  " 

"  How  did  you  know  I  was  here  ?  Who 
told  you  ?  "  she  said  impetuously. 

"  Nobody !  never  was  so  surprised  in  my 
life !  When  you  opened  that  door  just 
now  you  might  have  knocked  me  down  with 
a  feather."  Yet  he  spoke  lazily,  with  an 
amused  face,  and  looked  at  her  without 
changing  his  position. 

"  But  you  must  have  known  something  ! 
It  was  no  mere  accident,"  she  went  on 
vehemently,  glancing  around  the  room. 

"  That 's  where  you  slip  up,  Nell,"  said 
Hamlin  imperturbably.  "  It  was  an  acci- 
dent and  a  bad  one.  My  horse  lamed  him- 
self coming  down  the  grade.  I  sighted  the 
nearest  shanty,  where  I  thought  I  might  get 
another  horse.  It  happened  to  be  this." 
For  the  first  time  he  changed  his  attitude, 
and  leaned  back  contemplatively  in  his 
chair. 

She  came  towards  him   quickly.     "  You 


MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      11 

didn't  use  to  lie,  Jack,"  she  said  hesitat- 
ingly. 

"  Could  n't  afford  it  in  my  business,  —  and 
can't  now,"  said  Jack  cheerfully.  "  But," 
he -added  curiously,  as  if  recognizing  some- 
thing in  his  companion's  agitation,  and  lift- 
ing his  brown  lashes  to  her,  the  window,  and 
the  ceiling,  "  what 's  all  this  about  ?  What 's 
your  little  game  here  ?  " 

"  I  'm  married,"  she  said,  with  nervous 
intensity,  —  "married,  and  this  is  my  hus- 
band's house ! " 

"  Not  married  straight  out !  —  regularly 
fixed?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said  hurriedly. 

"  One  of  the  boys  ?  Don't  remember  any 
Rylands.  /Spelter  used  to  be  very  sweet  on 
you,  —  but  Spelter  might  n't  have  been  his 
real  name  ?  " 

"  None  of  our  lot !  No  one  you  ever 
knew ;  a  —  a  straight  out,  square  man," 
she  said  quickly. 

"  I  say,  Nell,  look  here  !  You  ought  to 
have  shown  up  your  cards  without  even  a 
call.  You  ought  to  have  told  him  that  you 
danced  at  the  Casino." 

"I  did." 


12      MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

"  Before  he  asked  you  to  marry  him  ?  " 

"  Before." 

Jack  got  up  from  his  chair,  put  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  and  looked  at  her  curiously. 
This  Nell  Montgomery,  this  music-hall 
"  dance  and  song  girl,"  this  girl  of  whom  so 
much  had  been  said  and  so  little  proved  ! 
Well,  this  was  becoming  interesting. 

"You  don't  understand,"  she  said,  with 
nervous  feverishness ;  "  you  remember  after 
that  row  I  had  with  Jim,  that  night  the 
manager  gave  us  a  supper,  —  when  he  treated 
me  like  a  dog  ?  " 

"  He  did  that,"  interrupted  Jack. 

"  I  felt  fit  for  anything,"  she  said,  with  a 
half-hysterical  laugh,  that  seemed  voiced, 
however,  to  check  some  slumbering  memory. 
*'  I  'd  have  cut  my  throat  or  his,  it  did  n't 
matter  which  "  - 

"  It  mattered  something  to  us,  Nell,"  put 
in  Jack  again,  with  polite  parenthesis ; 
"  don't  leave  us  out  in  the  cold." 

"  I  started  from  'Frisco  that  night  on  the 
boat  ready  to  fling  myself  into  anything  — 
or  the  river! "  she  went  on  hurriedly. 
"  There  was  a  man  in  the  cabin  who  noticed 
me,  and  began  to  hang  around.  I  thought 


ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      13 

he  knew  who  I  was,  —  had  seen  me  on  the 
posters  ;  and  as  I  did  n't  feel  like  foolin',  I 
told  him  so.  But  he  was  n't  that  kind.  He 
said  he  saw  I  was  in  trouble  and  wanted  me 
to  tell  him  all." 

Mr.  Hamlin  regarded  her  cheerfully. 
"  And  you  told  him,"  he  said,  "  how  you  had 
once  run  away  from  your  childhood's  happy 
home  to  go  on  the  stage  !  How  you  always 
regretted  it,  and  would  have  gone  back  but 
that  the  doors  were  shut  forever  against  you ! 
How  you  longed  to  leave,  but  the  wicked 
men  and  women  around  you  always  "  — 

"  I  did  n't !  "  she  burst  out,  with  sudden 
passion ;  "  you  know  I  did  n't.  I  told  him 
everything  :  who  I  was,  what  I  had  done, 
what  I  expected  to  do  again.  I  pointed 
out  the  men  —  who  were  sitting  there,  whis- 
pering and  grinning  at  us,  as  if  they  were  in 
the  front  row  of  the  theatre  —  and  said  I 
knew  them  all,  and  they  knew  me.  I  never 
spared  myself  a  thing.  I  said  what  people 
said  of  me,  and  did  n't  even  care  to  say  it 
was  n't  true !  " 

"  Oh,  come ! "  protested  Jack,  in  per- 
functory politeness. 

"  He   said   he  liked   me  for  telling  the 


14      ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

truth,  and  not  being  ashamed  to  do  it !  He 
said  the  sin  was  in  the  false  shame  and  the 
hypocrisy ;  for  that 's  the  sort  of  man  he  is, 
you  see,  and  that 's  like  him  always !  He 
asked  if  I  would  marry  him  —  out  of  hand 
—  and  do  my  best  to  be  his  lawful  wife. 
He  said  he  wanted  me  to  think  it  over  and 
sleep  on  it,  and  to-morrow  he  would  come 
and  see  me  for  an  answer.  I  slipped  off  the 
boat  at  'Frisco,  and  went  alone  to  a  hotel 
where  I  was  n't  known.  In  the  morning  I 
did  n't  know  whether  he  'd  keep  his  word  or 
I  'd  keep  mine.  But  he  came !  He  said 
he  'd  marry  me  that  very  day,  and  take  me 
to  his  farm  in  Santa  Clara.  I  agreed.  I 
thought  it  would  take  me  out  of  everybody's 
knowledge,  and  they  'd  think  me  dead  !  We 
were  married  that  day,  before  a  regular 
clergyman.  I  was  married  under  my  own 
name,"  —  she  stopped  and  looked  at  Jack, 
with  a  hysterical  laugh,  —  "  but  he  made  me 
write  underneath  it,  '  known  as  Nell  Mont- 
gomery ; '  for  he  said  he  was  n't  ashamed  of 
it,  nor  should  I  be." 

"  Does  he  wear  long  hair  and  stick  straws 
in  it? "  said  Hamlin  gravely.  "  Does  he 
'  hear  voices '  and  have  '  visions  '  ?  " 


MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      15 

"  He 's  a  shrewd,  sensible,  hard-working 
man,  —  no  more  mad  than  you  are,  nor  as 
mad  as  /  was  the  day  I  married  him.  He 's 
lived  up  to  everything  he 's  said."  She 
stopped,  hesitated  in  her  quick,  nervous 
speech ;  her  lip  quivered  slightly,  but  she 
recalled  herself,  and  looking  imploringly, 
yet  hopelessly,  at  Jack,  gasped, "  And  that 's 
what 's  the  matter  !  " 

Jack  fixed  his  eyes  keenly  upon  her. 
"  And  you  ?  "  he  said  curtly. 

"  I  ?  "  she  repeated  wonderingly. 

"  Yes,  what  have  you  done  ?  "  he  said, 
with  sudden  sharpness. 

The  wonder  was  so  apparent  in  her  eyes 
that  his  keen  glance  softened.  "  Why," 
she  said  bewilderingly,  "I  have  been  his 
dog,  his  slave,  —  as  far  as  he  would  let  me. 
I  have  done  everything;  I  have  not  been 
out  of  the  house  until  he  almost  drove  me 
out.  I  have  never  wanted  to  go  anywhere 
or  see  any  one  ;  but  he  has  always  insisted 
upon  it.  I  would  have  been  willing  to  slave 
here,  day  and  night,  and  have  been  happy. 
But  he  said  I  must  not  seem  to  be  ashamed 
of  my  past,  when  he  is  not.  I  would  have 
worn  common  homespun  clothes  and  calico 


16      MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

frocks,  and  been  glad  of  it,  but  he  insists 
upon  my  wearing  my  best  things,  even  my 
theatre  things ;  and  as  he  can't  afford  to 
buy  more,  I  wear  these  things  I  had.  I 
know  they  look  beastly  here,  and  that  I'm  a 
laughing-stock,  and  when  I  go  out  I  wear 
almost  anything  to  try  and  hide  them  ;  but," 
her  lip  quivered  dangerously  again,  "  he 
wants  me  to  do  it,  and  it  pleases  him." 

Jack  looked  down.  After  a  pause  he  lifted 
his  lashes  towards  her  draggled  skirt,  and 
said  in  an  easier,  conversational  tone,  "  Yes ! 
I  thought  I  knew  that  dress.  /  gave  it  to 
you  for  that  walking  scene  in  '  High  Life,' 
didn't  I?" 

"  No,"  she  said  quickly,  "  it  was  the  blue 
one  with  silver  trimming,  —  don't  you  re- 
member ?  I  tried  to  turn  it  the  first  year  I 
was  married,  but  it  never  looked  the  same." 

"It  was  sweetly  pretty,"  said  Jack  en- 
couragingly, "  and  with  that  blue  hat  lined 
with  silver,  it  was  just  fetching !  Somehow 
I  don't  quite  remember  this  one,"  and  he 
looked  at  it  critically. 

"  I  had  it  at  the  races  in  '58,  and  that 
supper  Judge  Boompointer  gave  us  at  'Frisco 
where  Colonel  Fish  upset  the  table  trying  to 


ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      17 

get  at  Jim.  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  with 
a  little  laugh,  "  it 's  got  the  stains  of  the 
champagne  on  it  yet ;  it  never  would  come 
off.  See  ! "  and  she  held  the  candle  with 
great  animation  to  the  breadth  of  silk  before 
her. 

"  And  there  's  more  of  it  on  the  sleeve," 
said  Jack ;  "  is  n't  there  ?  " 

Mrs.  Rylands  looked  reproachfully  at 
Jack. 

"  That  is  n't  champagne  ;  don't  you  know 
what  it  is  ?  " 

"  No ! " 

"  It 's  blood,"  she  said  gravely ;  "  when 
that  Mexican  cut  poor  Ned  so  bad,  —  don't 
you  remember  ?  I  held  his  head  upon  my 
arm  while  you  bandaged  him."  She  heaved 
a  little  sigh,  and  then  added,  with  a  faint 
laugh,  "  That 's  the  worst  thing  about  the 
clothes  of  a  girl  in  the  profession,  they  get 
spoiled  or  stained  before  they  wear  out." 

This  large  truth  did  not  seem  to  impress 
Mr.  Hamlin.  "  Why  did  you  leave  Santa 
Clara?"  he  said  abruptly,  in  his  previous 
critical  tone. 

"  Because  of  the  folks  there.  They  were 
standoffish  and  ugly.  You  see,  Josh  "  — 


18      MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

"Who?" 

"  Josh  Rylands  !  —  him  !  He  told  every- 
body who  I  was,  even  those  who  had  never 
seen  me  in  the  bills,  —  how  good  I  was  to 
marry  him,  how  he  had  faith  in  me  and 
was  n't  ashamed,  —  until  they  did  n't  believe 
we  were  married  at  all.  So  they  looked 
another  way  when  they  met  us,  and  did  n't 
call.  And  all  the  while  I  was  glad  they 
didn't,  but  he  wouldn't  believe  it,  and 
allowed  I  was  pining  on  account  of  it." 

"  And  were  you  ?  " 

"  I  swear  to  God,  Jack,  I  'd  have  been 
content,  and  more,  to  have  been  just  there 
with  him,  seein'  nobody,  letting  every  one 
believe  I  was  dead  and  gone,  but  he  said  it 
was  wrong,  and  weak !  Maybe  it  was,"  she 
added,  with  a  shy,  interrogating  look  at 
Jack,  of  which,  however,  he  took  no  notice. 
"  Then  when  he  found  they  would  n't  call, 
what  do  you  think  he  did  ?  " 

"  Beat  you,  perhaps,"  suggested  Jack 
cheerfully. 

"  He  never  did  a  thing  to  me  that  was  n't 
straight  out,  square,  and  kind,"  she  said, 
half  indignantly,  half  hopelessly.  "He 
thought  if  his  kind  of  people  would  n't  see 


MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      19 

me,  I  might  like  to  see  my  own  sort.  So 
without  saying  anything  to  me,  he  brought 
down,  of  all  things !  Tinkie  Clifford,  she 
that  used  to  dance  in  the  cheap  variety 
shows  at  'Frisco,  and  her  particular  friend, 
Captain  Sykes.  It  would  have  just  killed 
you,  Jack,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  hysteric 
burst  of  laughter, "  to  have  seen  Josh,  in  his 
square,  straight-out  way,  trying  to  be  civil 
and  help  things  along.  But,"  she  went  on, 
as  suddenly  relapsing  into  her  former  atti- 
tude of  worried  appeal,  "  /  could  n't  stand 
it,  and  when  she  got  to  talking  free  and 
easy  before  Josh,  and  Captain  Sykes  to  guz- 
zling champagne,  she  and  me  had  a  row. 
She  allowed  I  was  putting  on  airs,  and  I 
made  her  walk,  in  spite  of  Josh." 

"  And  Josh  seemed  to  like  it,"  said  Ham- 
lin  carelessly..  "  Has  he  seen  her  since  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  reckon  he 's  cured  of  asking  that 
kind  of  company  for  me.  And  then  we 
came  here.  But  I  persuaded  him  not  to 
begin  by  going  round  telling  people  who  I 
was,  —  as  he  did  the  last  time,  —  but  to 
leave  it  to  folks  to  find  out  if  they  wanted 
to,  and  he  gave  in.  Then  he  let  me  fix  up 
this  house  and  furnish  it  my  own  way,  and 
I  did !  " 


20      MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  fixed  up 
that  family  vault  of  a  sitting-room?"  said 
Jack,  in  horror. 

"  Yes,  I  did  n't  want  any  fancy  furniture 
or  looking-glasses,  and  such  like,  to  attract 
folks,  nor  anything  to  look  like  the  old 
times.  I  don't  think  any  of  the  boys  would 
care  to  come  here.  And  I  got  rid  of  a  lot  of 
sporting  travelers,  '  wild-cat '  managers,  and 
that  kind  of  tramp  in  this  way.  But "  - 
She  hesitated,  and  her  face  fell  again. 

"  But  what  ?  "  said  Jack. 

"  I  don't  think  that  Josh  likes  it  either. 
He  brought  home  the  other  day  '  My 
Johnny  is  a  Shoemakiyure,'  and  wanted  me 
to  try  it  on  the  organ.  But  it  reminded  me 
how  we  used  to  get  just  sick  of  singing  it 
on  and  off  the  boards,  and  I  could  n't  touch 
it.  He  wanted  me  to  go  to  the  circus  that 
was  touring  over  at  the  cross  roads,  but  it 
was  the  old  Flanigin's  circus,  you  know,  the 
one  Gussie  Riggs  used  to  ride  in,  with  its 
old  clown  and  its  old  ringmaster  and  the  old 
4  wheezes,'  and  I  chucked  it." 

"  Look  here,"  said  Jack,  rising  and  sur- 
veying Mrs.  Eylands  critically.  "  If  you 
go  on  at  this  gait,  I  '11  tell  you  what  that 


ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      21 

man  of  yours  will  do.  He  '11  bolt  with  some 
of  your  old  friends !  " 

She  turned  a  quick,  scared  face  upon  him 
for  an  instant.  But  only  for  an  instant. 
Her  hysteric  little  laugh  returned  at  once, 
followed  by  her  weary,  worried  look.  "  No, 
Jack,  you  don't  know  him!  If  it  was  only 
that !  He  cares  only  for  me  in  his  own 
way,  —  and,"  she  stammered  as  she  went 
on,  "  I  've  no  luck  in  making  him  happy." 

She  stopped.  The  wind  shook  the  house 
and  fired  a  volley  of  rain  against  the  win- 
dows. She  took  advantage  of  it  to  draw 
a  torn  lace-edged  handkerchief  from  her 
pocket  behind,  and  keeping  the  tail  of  her 
eyes  in  a  frightened  fashion  on  Jack,  applied 
the  handkerchief  furtively,  first  to  her  nose, 
and  then  to  her  eyes. 

"  Don't  do  that,"  said  Jack  fastidiously, 
"it 's  wet  enough  outside."  Nevertheless, 
he  stood  up  and  gazed  at  her. 

«  Well,"  he  began. 

She  timidly  drew  nearer  to  him,  and  took 
a  seat  on  the  kitchen  table,  looking  up  wist- 
fully into  his  eyes. 

"  Well,"  resumed  Jack  argumentatively, 
"  if  he  won't  '  chuck '  you,  why  don't  you 
'chuck'  him?" 


22      MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

She  turned  quite  white,  and  suddenly 
dropped  her  eyes.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  almost 
inaudibly,  "  lots  of  girls  would  do  that." 

"  I  don't  mean  go  back  to  your  old  life," 
continued  Jack.  "  I  reckon  you  've  had 
enough  of  that.  But  get  into  some  busi- 
ness, you  know,  like  other  women.  A  bon- 
net shop,  or  a  candy  shop  for  children,  see  ? 
I  '11  help  start  you.  I  've  got  a  couple  of 
hundred,  if  not  in  my  own  pocket  in  some- 
body's else,  just  burning  to  be  used !  And 
then  you  can  look  about  you ;  and  perhaps 
some  square  business  man  will  turn  up  and 
you  can  marry  him.  You  know  you  can't 
live  this  way,  nohow.  It 's  killing  you ;  it 
ain't  fair  on  you,  nor  on  Rylands  either." 

"  No,"  she  said  quickly,  "  it  ain't  fair  on 
him.  I  know  it,  I  know  it  isn't,  I  .know 
it  isn't,"  she  repeated,  "only"-  She 
stopped. 

"  Only  what  ?  "  said  Jack  impatiently. 

She  did  not  speak.  After  a  pause  she 
picked  up  the  rolling-pin  from  the  table  and 
began  absently  rolling  it  down  her  lap  to 
her  knee,  as  if  pressing  out  the  stained  silk 
skirt.  "  Only,"  she  stammered,  slowly  roll- 
ing the  pin  handles  in  her  open  palms,  "  I 
—  I  can't  leave  Josh." 


ME.  JACK  IIAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      23 

"  Why  can't  you  ?  "  said  Jack  quickly. 

"  Because  —  because  —  I,"  she  went  on, 
with  a  quivering  lip,  working  the  rolling-pin 
heavily  down  her  knee  as  if  she  were  crush- 
ing her  answer  out  of  it,  —  "  because  —  I 
—  love  him !  " 

There  was  a  pause,  a  dash  of  rain  against 
the  window,  and  another  dash  from  her  eyes 
upon  her  hands,  the  rolling-pin,  and  the 
skirts  she  had  gathered  up  hastily,  as  she 
cried,  "  O  Jack !  Jack !  I  never  loved  any- 
body like  him!  I  never  knew  what  love 
was !  I  never  knew  a  man  like  him  before ! 
There  never  was  one  before  !  " 

To  this  large,  comprehensive,  and  pas- 
sionate statement  Mr.  Jack  Hamlin  made 
no  reply.  An  audacity  so  supreme  had 
conquered  his.  He  walked  to  the  window, 
looked  out  upon  the  dark,  rain-filmed  pane 
that,  however,  reflected  no  equal  change  in 
his  own  dark  eyes,  and  then  returned  and 
walked  round  the  kitchen  table.  When 
he  was  at  her  back,  without  looking  at  her, 
he  reached  out  his  hand,  took  her  passive 
one  that  lay  on  the  table  in  his,  grasped  it 
heartily  for  a  single  moment,  laid  it  gently 
down,  and  returned  around  the  table,  where 


24      MR.  JACK  IIAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

he  again  confronted  her  cheerfully  face  to 
face. 

"You'll  make  the  riffle  yet,"  he  said 
quietly.  "Just  now  I  don't  see  what  / 
could  do,  or  where  I  could  chip  in  your  little 
game ;  but  if  I  do,  or  you  do,  count  me  in 
and  let  me  know.  You  know  where  to 
write,  —  my  old  address  at  Sacramento." 
He  walked  to  the  corner,  took  up  his  still 
wet  scrape,  threw  it  over  his  shoulders,  and 
picked  up  his  broad-brimmed  riding-hat. 

"  You  're  not  going,  Jack  ?  "  she  said 
hesitatingly,  as  she  rubbed  her  wet  eyes  into 
a  consciousness  of  his  movements.  "  You  '11 
wait  to  see  him  ?  He  '11  be  here  in  an 
hour." 

"  I  've  been  here  too  long  already,"  said 
Jack.  "And  the  less  you  say  about  my 
calling,  even  accidentally,  the  better.  No- 
body will  believe  it,  —  you  did  n't  yourself. 
In  fact,  unless  you  see  how  I  can  help  you, 
the  sooner  you  consider  us  all  dead  and 
buried,  the  sooner  your  luck  will  change. 
Tell  your  girl  I  've  found  my  own  horse  so 
much  better  that  I  have  pushed  on  with 
him,  and  give  her  that." 

He  threw  a  gold  coin  on  the  table. 


MR.  JACK  IIAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      25 

"  But  your  horse  is  still  lame,"  she  said 
wonderingly.  "  What  will  you  do  in  this 
storm?" 

"  Get  into  the  cover  of  the  next  wood 
and  camp  out.  I  've  done  it  before." 

«  But,  Jack  !  " 

He  suddenly  made  a  slight  gesture  of 
warning.  His  quick  ear  had  caught  the 
approach  of  footsteps  along  the  wet  gravel 
outside.  A  mischievous  light  slid  into  his 
dark  eyes  as  he  coolly  moved  backward  to 
the  door  and,  holding  it  open,  said,  in  a  re- 
markably clear  and  distinct  voice :  — 

"Yes,  as  you  say,  society  is  becoming 
very  mixed  and  frivolous  everywhere,  and 
you'd  scarcely  know  San  Francisco  now. 
So  delighted,  however,  to  have  made  your 
acquaintance,  and  regret  my  business  pre- 
vents my  waiting  to  see  your  good  husband. 
•So  odd  that  I  should  have  known  your  Aunt 
Jemima !  But,  as  you  say,  the  world  is 
very  small,  after  all.  I  shall  tell  the  Dea- 
con how  well  you  are  looking,  —  in  spite  of 
the  kitchen  smoke  in  your  eyes.  Good-by ! 
A  thousand  thanks  for  your  hospitality." 

And  Jack,  bowing  profoundly  to  the 
ground,  backed  out  upon  Jane,  the  hired 


26      MR.  JACK  HAMLIN1  S  MEDIATION 

man,  and  the  expressman,  treading,  I  grieve 
to  say,  with  some  deliberation  upon  the  toes 
of  the  two  latter,  in  order,  possibly,  that 
in  their  momentary  pain  and  discomposure 
they  might  not  scan  too  closely  the  face  of 
this  ingenious  gentleman,  as  he  melted  into 
the  night  and  the  storm. 

Jane  entered,  with  a  slight  toss  of  her 
head. 

"  Here 's  your  expressman,  —  ef  you  're 
wantin'  him  now." 

Mrs.  Kylands  was  too  preoccupied  to 
notice  her  handmaiden's  significant  empha- 
sis, as  she  indicated  a  fresh-looking,  bashful 
young  fellow,  whose  confusion  was  evidently 
heightened  by  the  unexpected  egress  of  Mr. 
Hamlin,  and  the  point-blank  presence  of  the 
handsome  Mrs.  Rylands. 

"Oh,  certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Rylands 
quickly.  "  So  kind  of  him  to  oblige  us.» 
Give  him  the  order,  Jane,  please." 

She  turned  to  escape  from  the  kitchen 
and  these  new  intruders,  when  her  eye  fell 
upon  the  coin  left  by  Mr.  Hamlin.  "  The 
gentleman  wished  you  to  take  that  for  your 
trouble,  Jane,"  she  said  hastily,  pointing  to 
it,  and  passed  out. 


.,. 


MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      27 

Jane  cast  a  withering  look  after  her  re- 
treating skirts,  and  picking  the  coin  from 
the  table,  turned  to  the  hired  man.  "  Run 
to  the  stable  after  that  dandified  young 
feller,  Dick,  and  hand  that  back  to  him. 
Ye  kin  say  that  Jane  Mackinnon  don't  run 
arrants  fur  money,  nor  play  gooseberry  to 
other  folks  fur  fun." 


PART  II 

MR.  JOSHUA  RYLANDS  had,  according  to 
the  vocabulary  of  his  class,  "  found  grace  " 
at  the  age  of  sixteen,  while  still  in  the  spirit- 
ual state  of  "  original  sin  "  and  the  political 
one  of  Missouri.  He  had  not  indeed  found 
it  by  persistent  youthful  seeking  or  spiritual 
insight,  but  somewhat  violently  and  turbu- 
lently  at  a  camp-meeting.  A  village  boy, 
naturally  gentle  and  impressible,  with  an 
original  character,  —  limited,  however,  in 
education  and  experience,  —  he  had,  after 
his  first  rustic  debauch  with  some  vulgar 
companions,  fallen  upon  the  camp-meeting 
in  reckless  audacity ;  and  instead  of  being 
handed  over  to  the  district  constable,  was 
taken  in  and  placed  upon  "the  anxious 


28      MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

bench,"  "  rastled  with,"  and  exhorted  by 
a  strong  revivalist  preacher,  "convicted  of 
sin,"  and  —  converted  !  It  is  doubtful  if 
the  shame  of  a  public  arrest  and  legal  pun- 
ishment would  have  impressed  his  youthful 
spirit  as  much  as  did  this  spiritual  examina- 
tion and  trial,  in  which  he  himself  became 
accuser.  Howbeit,  its  effect,  though  puni- 
tive, was  also  exemplary.  He  at  once  cast 
off  his  evil  companions ;  remaining  faithful 
to  his  conversion,  in  spite  of  their  later 
"  backslidings."  When,  after  the  Western 
fashion,  the  time  came  for  him  to  forsake 
his  father's  farm  and  seek  a  new  "  quarter 
section  "  on  some  more  remote  frontier,  he 
carried  into  that  secluded,  lonely,  half- 
monkish  celibacy  of  pioneer  life  —  which 
has  been  the  foundation  of  so  much  strong 
Western  character  —  more  than  the  usual 
religious  feeling.  At  once  industrious  and 
adventurous,  he  lived  by  "  the  Word,"  as  he 
called  it,  and  Nature  as  he  knew  it,  —  tempted 
by  none  of  the  vices  or  sentiments  of  civiliza- 
tion. When  he  finally  joined  the  Californian 
emigration,  it  was  not  as  a  gold-seeker,  but 
as  a  discoverer  of  new  agricultural  fields ;  if 
the  hardship  was  as  great  and  the  rewards 


MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      29 

fewer,  he  nevertheless  knew  that  he  retained 
his  safer  isolation  and  independence  of  spirit. 
Vice  and  civilization  were  to  him  synony- 
mous terms  ;  it  was  the  natural  condition 
of  the  worldly  and  unregenerate.  Such  was 
the  man  who  chanced  to  meet  "  Nell  Mont- 
gomery, the  Pearl  of  the  Variety  Stage," 
on  the  Sacramento  boat,  in  one  of  his  forced 
visits  to  civilization.  Without  knowing  her 
in  her  profession,  her  frank  exposition  of 
herself  did  not  startle  him ;  he  recognized 
it,  accepted  it,  and  strove  to  convert  it. 
And  as  long  as  this  daughter  of  Folly  for- 
sook her  evil  ways  for  him,  it  was  a  triumph 
in  which  there  was  no  shame,  and  might  be 
proclaimed  from  the  housetop.  When  his 
neighbors  thought  differently,  and  avoided 
them,  he  saw  no  inconsistency  in  bringing 
his  wife's  old  friends  to  divert  her:  she 
might  in  time  convert  them.  He  had  no 
more  fear  of  her  returning  to  their  ways 
than  he  had  of  himself  "  backsliding."  Nar- 
row as  was  his  creed,  he  had  none  of  the 
harshness  nor  pessimism  of  the  bigot.  With 
the  keenest  self -scrutiny,  his  credulity  regard- 
ing others  was  touching. 

The   storm   was    still    raging   when    he 


30      ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

alighted  that  evening  from  the  up  coach  at 
the  trail  nearest  his  house.  Although  in- 
cumbered  with  a  heavy  carpet-bag,  he  started 
resignedly  on  his  two-mile  tramp  without 
begrudging  the  neighborly  act  of  his  wife 
which  had  deprived  him  of  his  horse.  It 
was  "  like  her "  to  do  these  things  in  her 
good-humored  abstraction,  an  abstraction, 
however,  that  sometimes  worried  him,  from 
the  fear  that  it  indicated  some  unhappiness 
with  her  present  lot.  He  was  longing  to 
rejoin  her  after  his  absence  of  three  days, 
the  longest  tune  they  had  been  separated 
since  their  marriage,  and  he  hurried  on  with 
a  certain  lover-like  excitement,  quite  new  to 
his  usually  calm  and  temperate  blood. 

Struggling  with  the  storm  and  darkness, 
but  always  with  the  happy  consciousness  of 
drawing  nearer  to  her  in  that  struggle,  he 
labored  on,  finding  his  perilous  way  over 
the  indistinguishable  trail  by  certain  land- 
marks in  the  distance,  visible  only  to  his 
pioneer  eye.  That  heavier  shadow  to  the 
right  was  not  the  hillside,  but  the  slope  to 
the  distant  hill ;  that  low,  regular  line  im- 
mediately before  him  was  not  a  fence  or 
wall,  but  the  line  of  distant  gigantic  woods, 


MR.   JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      31 

a  mile  from  his  home.  Yet  as  he  began 
to  descend  the  slope  towards  the  wood,  he 
stopped  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  There  was 
distinctly  a  light  in  it.  His  first  idea  was 
that  he  had  lost  the  trail  and  was  nearing 
the  woodman  Mackinnon's  cabin.  But  a 
more  careful  scrutiny  revealed  to  him  that 
it  was  really  the  wood,  and  the  light  was  a 
camp-fire.  It  was  a  rough  night  for  camp- 
ing out,  but  they  were  probably  some  be- 
lated prospectors. 

When  he  had  reached  the  fringe  of  wood- 
land, he  could  see  quite  plainly  that  the  fire 
was  built  beside  one  of  the  large  pines,  and 
that  the  little  encampment,  which  looked 
quite  comfortable  and  secluded  from  the 
storm-beaten  trail,  was  occupied  apparently 
by  a  single  figure.  By  the  good  glow  of  the 
leaping  fire,  that  figure  standing  erect  before 
it,  elegantly  shaped,  in  the  graceful  folds  of  a 
serape,  looked  singularly  romantic  and  pic- 
turesque, and  reminded  Joshua  Rylands — 
whose  ideas  of  art  were  purely  reminiscent 
of  boyish  reading  —  of  some  picture  in  a 
novel.  The  heavy  black  columns  of  the 
pines,  glancing  out  of  the  concave  shadow, 
also  seemed  a  fitting  background  to  what 


32      MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

might  have  been  a  scene  in  a  play.  So 
strongly  was  he  impressed  by  it  that  but 
for  his  anxiety  to  reach  his  home,  still  a 
mile  distant,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  already 
late,  he  would  have  penetrated  the  wood  and 
the  seclusion  of  the  stranger  with  an  offer 
of  hospitality  for  the  night.  The  man,  how- 
ever, was  evidently  capable  of  taking  care  of 
himself,  and  the  outline  of  a  tethered  horse 
was  faintly  visible  under  another  tree.  It 
might  be  a  surveyor  or  engineer,  —  the  only 
men  of  a  better  class  who  were  itinerant. 

But  another  and  even  greater  surprise 
greeted  him  as  he  toiled  up  the  rocky  slope 
towards  his  farmhouse.  The  windows  of 
the  sitting-room,  which  were  usually  blank 
and  black  by  night,  were  glittering  with 
unfamiliar  light.  Like  most  farmers,  he 
seldom  used  the  room  except  for  formal 
company,  his  wife  usually  avoiding  it,  and 
even  he  himself  now  preferred  the  dining- 
room  or  the  kitchen.  His  first  suggestion 
that  his  wife  had  visitors  gave  him  a  sense 
of  pleasure  on  her  account,  mingled,  how- 
ever, with  a  slight  uneasiness  of  his  own 
whicn  he  could  not  account  for.  More  than 
that,  as  he  approached  nearer  he  could  hear 


MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      33 

the  swell  of  the  organ  above  the  roar  of  the 
swaying  pines,  and  the  cadences  were  not  of 
a  devotional  character.  He  hesitated  for  a 
moment,  as  he  had  hesitated  at  the  fire  in 
the  woods  ;  yet  it  was  surely  his  own  house ! 
He  hurried  to  the  door,  opened  it ;  not  only 
the  light  of  the  sitting-room  streamed  into 
the  hall,  but  the  ruddier  glow  of  an  actual 
fire  in  the  disused  grate  !  The  familiar  dark 
furniture  had  been  rearranged  to  catch  some 
of  the  glow  and  relieve  its  sombreness.  And 
his  wife,  rising  from  the  music-stool,  was  the 
room's  only  occupant ! 

Mrs.  Rylands  gazed  anxiously  and  timidly 
at  her  husband's  astonished  face,  as  he  threw 
off  his  waterproof  and  laid  down  his  car- 
pet-bag. Her  own  face  was  a  little  flurried 
with  excitement,  and  his,  half  hidden  in  his 
tawny  beard,  and,  possibly  owing  to  his  self- 
introspective  nature,  never  spontaneously 
sympathetic,  still  expressed  only  wonder! 
Mrs.  Rylands  was  a  little  frightened,  It 
is  sometimes  dangerous  to  meddle  with  a 
man's  habits,  even  when  he  has  grown  weary 
of  them. 

"  I  thought,"  she  began  hesitatingly,  "  that 
it  would  be  more  cheerful  for  you  in  here, 


34      MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

this  stormy  evening.  I  thought  you  might 
like  to  put  your  wet  things  to  dry  in  the 
kitchen,  and  we  could  sit  here  together,  after 
supper,  alone." 

I  am  afraid  that  Mrs.  Rylands  did  not 
offer  all  her  thoughts.  Ever  since  Mr. 
Hamlin's  departure  she  had  been  uneasy  and 
excited,  sometimes  falling  into  fits  of  dejec- 
tion, and  again  lighting  up  into  hysterical 
levity ;  at  other  times  carefully  examining  her 
wardrobe,  and  then  with  a  sudden  impulse 
rushing  downstairs  again  to  give  orders  for 
her  husband's  supper,  and  to  make  the 
extraordinary  changes  in  the  sitting-room 
already  noted.  Only  a  few  moments  before 
he  arrived,  she  had  covertly  brought  down 
a  piece  of  music,  and  put  aside  the  hymn- 
books,  and  taken,  with  a  little  laugh,  a  pack 
of  cards  from  her  pocket,  which  she  placed 
behind  the  already  dismantled  vase  on  the 
chimney. 

"  I  reckoned  you  had  company,  Ellen,"  he 
said  gravely,  kissing  her. 

"  No,"  she  said  quickly.  "  That  is,"  she 
stopped  with  a  sudden  surge  of  color  in  her 
face  that  startled  her,  "  there  was  —  a  man 
—  here,  in  the  kitchen  —  who  had  a  lame 


MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      35 

horse,  and  who  wanted  to  get  a  fresh  one. 
But  he  went  away  an  hour  ago.  And  he 
was  n't  in  this  room  —  at  least,  after  it  was 
fixed  up.  So  I  've  had  no  company." 

She  felt  herself  again  blushing  at  having 
blushed,  and  a  little  terrified.  There  was  no 
reason  for  it.  But  for  Jack's  warning,  she 
would  have  been  quite  ready  to  tell  her  hus- 
band all.  She  had  never  blushed  before 
him  over  her  past  life ;  why  she  should  now 
blush  over  seeing  Jack,  of  all  people  !  made 
her  utter  a  little  hysterical  laugh.  I  am 
afraid  that  this  experienced  little  woman 
took  it  for  granted  that  her  husband  knew 
that  if  Jack  or  any  man  had  been  there  as 
a  clandestine  lover,  she  would  not  have 
blushed  at  all.  Yet  with  all  her  experi- 
ence, she  did  not  know  that  she  had  blushed 
simply  because  it  was  to  Jack  that  she  had 
confessed  that  she  loved  the  man  before  her. 
Her  husband  noted  the  blush  as  part  of  her 
general  excitement.  He  permitted  her  to 
drag  him  into  the  room  and  seat  him  before 
the  hearth,  where  she  sank  down  on  one 
knee  to  pull  off  his  heavy  rubber  boots. 
But  he  waved  her  aside  at  this,  pulled  them 
off  with  his  own  hands,  and  let  her  take 


36      MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

them  to  the  kitchen  and  bring  back  his 
slippers.  By  this  time  a  smile  had  lighted 
up  his  hard  face.  The  room  was  certainly 
more  comfortable  and  cheerful.  Still  he 
was  a  little  worried ;  was  there  not  in  these 
changes  a  falling  away  from  the  grace  of 
self-abnegation  which  she  had  so  sedulously 
practiced  ? 

When  supper  was  served  by  Jane,  in  the 
dull  dining-room,  Mr.  Rylands,  had  he  not 
been  more  engaged  in  these  late  domestic 
changes,  might  have  noticed  that  the  Mis- 
souri girl  waited  upon  him  with  a  certain 
commiserating  air  that  was  remarkable  by 
its  contrast  with  the  frigid  ceremonious 
politeness  with  which  she  attended  her  mis- 
tress. It  had  not  escaped  Mrs.  Rylands, 
however,  who  ever  since  Jack's  abrupt  de- 
parture had  noticed  this  change  in  the  girl's 
demeanor  to  herself,  and  with  a  woman's 
intuitive  insight  of  another  woman,  had  fath- 
omed it.  The  comfortable  tete-a-tete  with 
Jack,  which  Jane  had  looked  forward  to, 
Mrs.  Kylands  had  anticipated  herself,  and 
then  sent  him  off  !  When  Joshua  thanked 
his  wife  for  remembering  the  pepper-sauce, 
and  Mrs.  Rylands  pathetically  admitted  her 


ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      37 

forgetfulness,  the  head-toss  which  Jane  gave 
as  she  left  the  room  was  too  marked  to  be 
overlooked  by  him.  Mrs.  Rylands  gave  a 
hysterical  little  laugh.  "  I  am  afraid  Jane 
does  n't  like  my  sending  away  the  express- 
man just  after  I  had  also  dismissed  the 
stranger  whom  she  had  taken  a  fancy  to, 
and  left  her  without  company,"  she  said 
unwisely. 

Mr.  Rylands  did  not  laugh.  "  I  reckon," 
he  returned  slowly,  "that  Jane  must  feel 
kinder  lonely ;  she  bears  all  the  burden  of 
our  bein'  outer  the  world,  without  any  of  our 
glory  in  the  cause  of  it." 

Nevertheless,  when  supper  was  over,  and 
the  pair  were  seated  in  the  sitting-room 
before  the  fire,  this  episode  was  forgotten. 
Mrs.  Rylands  produced  her  husband's  pipe 
and  tobacco-pouch.  He  looked  around  the 
formal  walls  and  hesitated.  He  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  smoking  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Why  not  here  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Rylands, 
with  a  sudden  little  note  of  decision.  "  Why 
should  we  keep  this  room  only  for  company 
that  don't  come  ?  I  call  it  silly." 

This  struck  Mr.  Rylands  as  logical.  Be- 
sides, undoubtedly  the  fire  had  mellowed  the 


38      MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

room.  After  a  puff  or  two  he  looked  at  his 
wife  musingly.  "  Could  n't  you  make  your- 
self one  of  them  cigarettys,  as  they  call  'em  ? 
Here  's  the  tobacco,  and  I  '11  get  you  the 
paper." 

"'  /  could"  she  said  tentatively.  Then 
suddenly,  "  What  made  you  think  of  it  ? 
You  never  saw  me  smoke  !  " 

"  No,"  said  Rylands,  "  but  that  lady,  your 
old  friend,  Miss  Clifford,  does,  and  I  thought 
you  might  be  hankering  after  it." 

"  How  do  you  know  Tinkie  Clifford 
smokes  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Rylands  quickly. 

"  She  lit  a  cigaretty  that  day  she  called." 

"  I  hate  it,"  said  Mrs.  Rylands  shortly. 

Mr.  Rylands  nodded  approval,  and  puflted 
meditatively. 

"  Josh,  have  you  seen  that  girl  since  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Joshua. 

"  Nor  any  other  girl  like  her  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Joshua  wonderingly.  "  You 
see  I  only  got  to  know  her  on  your  account, 
Ellen,  that  she  might  see  you." 

"  Well,  don't  you  do  it  any  more !  None 
of  'em  !  Promise  me  !  "  She  leaned  for- 
ward eagerly  in  her  chair. 

"But"  Ellen,  --  her  husband  began 
gravely. 


ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      39 

"  I  know  what  you  're  going  to  say,  but 
they  can't  do  me  any  good,  and  you  can't  do 
them  any  good  as  you  did  me,  so  there !  " 

Mr.  Eylands  was  silent,  and  smiled  medi- 
tatively. 

"Josh!" 

«  Yes." 

"  When  you  met  me  that  night  on  the 
Sacramento  boat,  and  looked  at  me,  did  you 
—  did  I,"  she  hesitated,  —  "  did  you  look 
at  me  because  I  had  been  crying  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  troubled  in  spirit, 
and  looked  so." 

"  I  suppose  I  looked  worried,  of  course  ;  I 
had  no  time  to  change  or  even  fix  my  hair; 
I  had  on  that  green  dress,  and  it  never  was 
becoming.  And  you  only  spoke  to  me  on 
account  of  my  awful  looks  ?  " 

"  I  saw  only  your  wrestling  soul,  Ellen, 
and  I  thought  you  needed  comfort  and 
help." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
leaning  forward,  picked  up  the  poker  and 
began  to  thrust  it  absently  between  the 
tars. 

"  And  if  it  had  been  some  other  girl  cry- 
ing and  looking  awful,  you  'd  have  spoken 
to  her  aU  the  same  ?  " 


40      MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

This  was  a  new  idea  to  Mr.  Kylands,  but 
with  most  men  logic  is  supreme.  "I  sup- 
pose I  would,"  he  said  slowly. 

"  And  married  her  ?  "  She  rattled  the 
bars  of  the  grate  with  the  poker  as  if  to 
drown  the  inevitable  reply. 

Mr.  Rylands  loved  the  woman  before  him, 
but  it  pleased  him  to  think  that  he  loved 
truth  better.  "  If  it  had  been  necessary  to 
her  salvation,  yes,"  he  said. 

"  Not  Tinkie  ?  "  she  said  suddenly. 

"  She  never  would  have  been  in  your 
contrite  condition." 

"  Much  you  know  !  Girls  like  that  can 
cry  as  well  as  laugh,  just  as  they  want  to. 
Well !  I  suppose  I  did  look  horrid."  Never- 
theless, she  seemed  to  gain  some  gratifica- 
tion from  her  husband's  reply,  and  changed 
the  subject  as  if  fearful  of  losing  that  sat- 
isfaction by  further  questioning. 

"  I  tried  some  of  those  songs  you  brought, 
but  I  don't  think  they  go  well  with  the  har- 
monium," she  said,  pointing  to  some  music 
on  its  rack,  "  except  one.  Just  listen."  She 
rose,  and  with  the  same  nervous  quickness 
she  had  shown  before,  went  to  the  instru- 
ment-and  began  to  sing  and  play.  There 


MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      41 

was  a  hopeless  incongruity  between  the  char- 
acter of  the  instrument  and  the  spirit  of  the 
song.  Mrs.  Rylands's  voice  was  rather  forced 
and  crudely  trained,  but  Joshua  Kylands, 
sitting  there  comfortably  slippered  by  the 
fire  and  conscious  of  the  sheeted  rain  against 
the  window,  felt  it  good.  Presently  he  arose, 
and  lounging  heavily  over  to  the  fair  per- 
former, leaned  down  and  imprinted  a  kiss 
on  the  labyrinthine  fringes  of  her  hair.  At 
which  Mrs.  Rylands  caught  blindly  at  his 
hand  nearest  her,  and  without  lifting  her 
other  hand  from  the  keys,  or  her  eyes  from 
the  music,  said  tentatively :  — 

"  You  know  there 's  a  chorus  just  here  ! 
Why  can't  you  try  it  with  me  ?  " 

Mr.  Rylands  hesitated  a  moment,  then, 
with  a  preliminary  cough,  lifted  a  voice  as 
crude  as  hers,  but  powerful  through  much 
camp-meeting  exercise,  and  roared  a  chorus 
which  was  remarkable  chiefly  for  requiring 
that  archness  and  playfulness  in  execution 
which  he  lacked.  As  the  whole  house  seemed 
to  dilate  with  the  sound,  and  the  wind  out- 
side to  withhold  its  fury,  Mr.  Rylands  felt 
that  physical  delight  which  children  feel 
in  personal  outcry,  and  was  grateful  to  his 


42      MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

wife  for  the  opportunity.  Laying  his  hand 
affectionately  on  her  shoulder,  he  noticed 
for  the  first  time  that  she  was  in  a  kind  of 
evening-dress,  and  that  her  delicate  white 
shoulder  shone  through  the  black  lace  that 
enveloped  it. 

For  an  instant  Mr.  Rylands  was  shocked 
at  this  unwonted  exposure.  He  had  never 
seen  his  wife  in  evening-dress  before.  It 
was  true  they  were  alone,  and  in  their  own 
sitting-room,  but  the  room  was  still  invested 
with  that  formality  and  publicity  which 
seemed  to  accent  this  indiscretion.  The 
simple-minded  frontier  man's  mind  went  back 
to  Jane,  to  the  hired  man,  to  the  expressman, 
the  stranger,  all  of  whom  might  have  noticed 
it  also. 

"  You  have  a  new  dress,"  he  said  slowly, 
"  have  you  worn  it  all  day  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  with  a  timid  smile.  "  I 
only  put  it  on  just  before  you  came.  It 's 
the  one  I  used  to  wear  in  the  ballroom  scene 
in  '  Gay  Times  in  'Frisco.'  You  don't  know 
it,  I  know.  I  thought  I  would  wear  it  to- 
night, and  then,"  she  suddenly  grasped  his 
hand,  "  you  '11  let  me  put  all  these  things 
away  forever !  Won't  you,  Josh  ?  I  've  seen 


MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      43 

such  nice  pretty  calico  at  the  store  to-day, 
and  I  can  make  up  one  or  two  home  dresses, 
like  Jane's,  only  better  fitting,  of  course.  In 
fact,  I  asked  them  to  send  the  roll  up  here 
to-morrow  for  you  to  see." 

Mr.  Rylands  felt  relieved.  Perhaps  his 
views  had  changed  about  the  moral  effect  of 
her  retaining  these  symbols  of  her  past,  for 
he  consented  to  the  calico  dresses,  not,  how- 
ever, without  an  inward  suspicion  that  she 
would  not  look  so  well  in  them,  and  that  the 
one  she  had  on  was  more  becoming. 

Meantime  she  tried  another  piece  of 
music.  It  was  equally  incongruous  and 
slightly  Bacchantic. 

"  There  used  to  be  a  mighty  pretty  dance 
went  to  that,"  she  said,  nodding  her  head  in 
time  with  the  music,  and  assisting  the  heavily 
spasmodic  attempts  of  the  instrument  with 
the  pleasant  levity  of  her  voice.  "  I  used 
to  do  it." 

"  Ye  might  try  it  now,  Ellen,"  suggested 
her  husband,  with  a  half-frightened,  half- 
amused  tolerance. 

"  You  play,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Kylands 
quickly,  offering  her  seat  to  him. 

Mr.  Rylands  sat  down  to  the  harmonium, 


44      ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

as  Mrs.  Rylands  briskly  moved  the  table 
and  chairs  against  the  wall.  Mr.  Ry lands 
played  slowly  and  strenuously,  as  from  a  con- 
scientious regard  of  the  instrument.  Mrs. 
Rylands  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  floor, 
making  a  rather  pretty,  animated  picture, 
as  she  again  stimulated  the  heavy  harmo- 
nium swell  not  only  with  her  voice  but  her 
hands  and  feet.  Presently  she  began  to 
skip. 

I  should  warn  the  reader  here  that  this 
was  before  the  "  shawl "  or  "  skirt  "  dan- 
cing was  in  vogue,  and  I  am  afraid  that 
pretty  Mrs.  Kylands's  performances  would 
now  be  voted  slow.  Her  silk  skirt  and 
frilled  petticoat  were  lifted  just  over  her 
small  ankles  and  tiny  bronze-kid  shoes.  In 
the  course  of  &  pirouette  or  two,  there  was 
a  slight  further  revelation  of  blue  silk  stock- 
ings and  some  delicate  embroidery,  but 
really  nothing  more  than  may  be  seen  in 
the  sweep  of  a  modern  waltz.  Suddenly  the 
music  ceased.  Mr.  Bylands  had  left  the 
harmonium  and  walked  over  to  the  hearth. 
Mrs.  Rylands  stopped,  and  came  towards 
him  with  a  flushed,  anxious  face. 

"  It  don't  seem  to  go  right,  does  it  ?  "    she 


MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      45 

said,  with  her  nervous  laugh.  "  I  suppose 
I  'm  getting  too  old  now,  and  I  don't  quite 
remember  it." 

"  Better  forget  it  altogether,"  he  replied 
gravely.  He  stopped  at  seeing  a  singular 
change  in  her  face,  and  added  awkwardly, 
"  When  I  told  you  I  did  n't  want  you  to  be 
ashamed  of  your  past,  nor  to  try  to  forget 
what  you  were,  I  did  n't  mean  such  things 
as  that ! " 

"  What  did  you  mean  ?  "  she  said  tun- 
idly. 

The  truth  was  that  Mr.  Eylands  did  not 
know.  He  had  known  this  sort  of  thing  only 
in  the  abstract.  He  had  never  had  the  least 
acquaintance  with  the  class  to  which  his 
wife  had  belonged,  nor  known  anything  of 
their  methods.  It  was  a  revelation  to  him 
now,  in  the  woman  he  loved,  and  who  was 
his  wife.  He  was  not  shocked  so  much  as 
he  was  frightened. 

"  You  shall  have  the  dress  to-morrow, 
Ellen,"  he  said  gently,  "  and  you  can  put 
away  these  gewgaws.  You  don't  need  to 
look  like  Tinkie  Clifford." 

He  did  not  see  the  look  of  triumph  that 
lit  up  her  eye,  but  added,  "  Go  on  and 


46      MR.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

She  sat  down  obediently  to  the  instru- 
ment. He  watched  her  for  a  few  moments 
from  the  toe  of  her  kid  slipper  on  the  pedals 
to  the  swell  of  her  shoulders  above  the  key- 
board, with  a  strange,  abstracted  face.  Pre- 
sently she  stopped  and  came  over  to  him. 

"And  when  I've  got  these  nice  calico 
frocks,  and  you  can't  tell  me  from  Jane,  and 
I  'm  a  good  housekeeper,  and  settle  down  to 
be  a  farmer's  wife,  maybe  I  '11  have  a  secret 
to  tell  you." 

"  A  secret  ?  "  he  repeated  gravely. 
"  Why  not  now  ?  " 

Her  face  was  quite  aglow  with  excitement 
and  a  certain  timid  mischief  as  she  laughed : 
"  Not  while  you  are  so  solemn.  It  can 
wait." 

He  looked  at  his  watch.  "  I  must  give 
some  orders  to  Jim  about  the  stock  before 
he  turns  in,"  he  said. 

"  He 's  gone  to  the  stables  already," 
said  Mrs.  Bylands. 

"No  matter;  I  can  go  there  and  find 
him." 

"  Shall  I  bring  your  boots  ? "  she  said 
quickly. 

"  I  '11  put  them  on  when  I  pass  through 


MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      47 

the  kitchen.  I  won't  be  long  away.  Now 
go  to  bed.  You  are  looking  tired,"  he  said 
gently,  as  he  gazed  at  the  drawn  lines  about 
her  eyes  and  mouth.  Her  former  pretty 
color  struck  him  also  as  having  changed  of 
late,  and  as  being  irregular  and  inharmo- 
nious. 

As  Mrs.  Kylands  obediently  ascended  the 
stairs  she  heaved  a  faint  sigh,  her  only  re- 
cognition of  her  husband's  criticism.  He 
turned  and  passed  quickly  into  the  kitchen. 
He  wanted  to  be  alone  to  collect  his 
thoughts.  But  he  was  surprised  to  find 
Jane  still  there,  sitting  bolt  upright  in  a 
chair  in  the  corner.  Apparently  she  had 
been  expecting  him,  for  as  he  entered  she 
stood  up,  and  wiped  her  cheek  and  mouth 
with  one  hand,  as  if  to  compress  her  lips  the 
more  tightly. 

"  I  reckoned,"  she  began,  "  that  unless 
you  war  for  forgettin'  everythin'  in  these 
yer  goings  on,  ye  'd  be  passin'  through  here 
to  tend  to  your  stock.  I  've  got  a  word  to 
say  to  ye,  Mr.  Kylands.  When  I  first  kem 
over  here  to  help,  I  got  word  from  the  folks 
around  that  your  wife  afore  you  married  her 
was  just  one  o'  them  bally  dancers.  Well, 


48      ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

that  was  your  lookout,  not  mine !  Jane 
Mackinnon  ain't  the  kind  to  take  every- 
body's sayin'  as  gospil,  but  she  kalkilates 
to  treat  folks  ez  she  finds  'em.  When  she 
finds  'em  lyin'  and  deceivin' ;  when  she  finds 
'em  purtendin'  one  thing  and  doin'  another ; 
when  she  finds  'em  makin'  fools  tumble  to 
'em ;  playing  soots  on  their  own  husbands, 
and  turnin'  an  honest  house  into  a  music- 
hall  and  a  fandango  shop,  she  kicks !  You 
hear  me  !  Jane  Mackinnon  kicks!  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  said  Mr.  Ry- 
lands  sternly. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Miss  Mackinnon,  striking 
her  hips  with  the  back  of  her  hands  smartly, 
and  accenting  each  word  that  dropped  like 
a  bullet  from  her  mouth  with  an  additional 
blow,  —  "•  I  —  mean  —  that  —  your  —  wife 

—  had  —  one  —  of  —  her  —  old  —  hang- 
ers-on —  from  —  'Frisco  —  here  —  in  —  this 

—  very  —  kitchen  —  all  —  the  —  arternoon  ; 
there !  I  mean  that  whiles  she  was  waitin' 
here  for  you,  she  was  canoodlin'  and  cryin' 
over  old  times  with  him !     I  saw  her  myself 
through  the  winder.     That's  what  I  mean, 
Mr.  Joshua  Rylands." 

"  It 's  false  !     She  had  some  poor  stranger 


MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      49 

here  with  a  lame  horse.  She  told  me  so 
herself. " 

Jane  Mackinnon  laughed  shrilly. 

"  Did  she  tell  you  that  the  poor  stranger 
was  young  and  pretty-faced,  with  black 
moustarches?  that  his  store  clothes  must 
have  cost  a  fortin,  saying  nothing  of  his 
gold-lined,  broadcloth  sarrapper  ?  Did  she 
say  that  his  horse  was  so  lame  that  when  I 
went  to  get  another'  he  would  n't  wait  for 
it  ?  Did  she  tell  you  who  he  was  ?  " 

"No,  she  did  not  know,"  said  Rylands 
sternly,  but  with  a  whitening  face. 

"  Well,  I  '11  tell  you !  The  gambler,  the 
shooter !  —  the  man  whose  name  is  black 
enough  to  stain  any  woman  he  knows.  Jim 
recognized  him  like  a  shot ;  he  sez,  the 
moment  he  clapped  eyes  on  him  at  the  door, 
*  Dod  blasted,  if  it  ain't  Jack  Hamlin ! '  " 

Little  as  Mr.  Rylands  knew  of  the  world, 
he  had  heard  that  name.  But  it  was  not 
that  he  was  thinking  of.  He  was  thinking 
of  the  camp-fire  in  the  wood,  the  handsome 
figure  before  it,  the  tethered  horse.  He  was 
thinking  of  the  lighted  sitting-room,  the  fire, 
his  wife's  bare  shoulders,  her  slippers,  stock- 
ings, and  the  dance.  He  saw  it  all,  —  a 


50      ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

lightning-flash  to  his  dull  imagination.  The 
room  seemed  to  expand  and  then  grow 
smaller,  the  figure  of  Jane  to  sway  back- 
wards and  forwards  before  him.  He  mur- 
mured the  name  of  God  with  lips  that  were 
voiceless,  caught  at  the  kitchen  table  to 
steady  himself,  held  it  till  he  felt  his  arms 
grow  rigid,  and  then  recovered  himself,  — 
white,  cold,  and  sane. 

"  Speak  a  word  of  this  to  Tier"  he  said 
deliberately,  "enter  her  room  while  I'm 
gone,  even  leave  the  kitchen  before  I  come 
back,  and  I  '11  throw  you  into  the  road.  Tell 
that  hired  man,  if  he  dares  to  breathe  it  to  a 
soul  I  '11  strangle  him." 

The  unlooked-for  rage  of  this  quiet,  God- 
fearing man,  and  dupe,  as  she  believed,  was 
terrible,  but  convincing.  She  shrank  back 
into  the  corner  as  he  coolly  drew  on  his 
boots  and  waterproof,  and  without  another 
word  left  the  house. 

He  knew  what  he  was  going  to  do  as  well 
as  if  it  had  been  ordained  for  him.  He 
knew  he  would  find  the  young  man  in  the 
wood ;  for  whatever  were  the  truth  of  the 
other  stories,  he  and  the  visitor  were  identi- 
cal; he  had  seen  him  with  his  own  eyes. 


MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      51 

He  would  confront  him  face  to  face  and 
know  all ;  and  until  then,  he  could  not  see 
his  wife  again.  He  walked  on  rapidly,  but 
without  feverishness  or  mental  confusion. 
He  saw  his  duty  plainly,  —  if  Ellen  had 
"backslidden,"  he  must  give  her  another 
trial.  These  were  his  articles  of  faith.  He 
should  not  put  her  away;  but  she  should 
nevermore  be  wife  to  him.  It  was  he  who 
had  tempted  her,  it  was  true  ;  perhaps  God 
would  forgive  her  for  that  reason,  but  he 
could  never  love  her  again. 

The  fury  of  the  storm  had  somewhat 
abated  as  he  reached  the  wood.  The  fire 
was  still  there,  but  no  longer  a  leaping 
flame.  A  dull  glow  in  the  darkness  of  the 
forest  aisles  was  all  that  indicated  its  po- 
sition. Rylands  at  once  plunged  in  that 
direction ;  he  was  near  enough  to  see  the 
red  embers  when  he  heard  a  sharp  click, 
and  a  voice  called :  — 

"  Hold  up !  " 

Mr.  Hamlin  was  a  light  sleeper.  The 
crackle  of  underbrush  had  been  enough  to 
disturb  him.  The  voice  was  his ;  the  click 
was  the  cocking  of  his  revolver. 

Rylands  was  no  coward,  but  halted  diplo- 
matically. 


52      MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Mr.  Hamlin's  voice,  "  a 
little  more  this  way,  in  the  light,  if  you 
please ! " 

Ry lands  moved  as  directed,  and  saw  Mr. 
Hamlin  lying  before  the  fire,  resting  easily 
on  one  hand,  with  his  revolver  in  the  other. 

"  Thank  you !  "  said  Jack.  "  Excuse  my 
precautions,  but  it  is  night,  and  this  is,  for 
the  present,  my  bedroom." 

"  My  name  is  Rylands ;  you  called  at  my 
house  this  afternoon  and  saw  my  wife,"  said 
Rylands  slowly. 

"  I  did,"  said  Hamlin.  "  It  was  mighty 
kind  of  you  to  return  my  call  so  soon,  but 
I  did  n't  expect  it." 

"  I  reckon  not.  But  I  know  who  you  are, 
and  that  you  are  an  old  associate  of  hers,  in 
the  days  of  her  sin  and  unregeneration.  I 
want  you  to  answer  me,  before  God  and 
man,  what  was  your  purpose  in  coming  there 
to-day  ?  " 

"  Look  here !  I  don't  think  it 's  necessary 
to  drag  in  strangers  to  hear  my  answer," 
said  Jack,  lying  down  again,  "but  I  came 
to  borrow  a  horse." 

"  Is  that  the  truth  ?  " 

Jack  got  upon  his  feet  very  solemnly,  put 


MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      53 

on  his  hat,  drew  down  his  waistcoat,  and 
approached  Mr.  Rylands  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets. 

"  Mr.  Rylands,"  he  said,  with  great  suav- 
ity of  manner,  "  this  is  the  second  time  to- 
day that  I  have  had  the  honor  of  having  my 
word  doubted  by  your  family.  Your  wife 
was  good  enough  to  question  my  assertion 
that  I  did  n't  know  that  she  was  living  here, 
but  that  was  a  woman's  vanity.  You  have 
no  such  excuse.  There  is  my  horse  yonder, 
lame,  as  you  may  see.  I  did  n't  lame  him 
for  the  sake  of  seeing  your  wife  nor  you." 

There  was  that  in  Mr.  Hamlin's  audacity 
and  perfect  self-possession  which,  even  while 
it  irritated,  never  suggested  deceit.  He  was 
too  reckless  of  consequence  to  lie.  Mr. 
Rylands  was  staggered  and  half  convinced. 
Nevertheless,  he  hesitated. 

"  Dare  you  tell  me  everything  that  hap- 
pened between  my  wife  and  you  ?  " 

"  Dare  you  listen  ?  "  said  Mr.  Hamlin 
quietly. 

Mr.  Rylands  turned  a  little  white.  After 
a  moment  he  said :  — 

«  Yes." 

"  Good !  "    said  Mr.    Hamlin.     "  I   like 


54      ME.  JACK  HAMLIWS  MEDIATION 

your  grit,  though  I  don't  mind  telling  you 
it 's  the  only  thing  I  like  about  you.  Sit 
down.  Well,  I  haven't  seen  Nell  Mont- 
gomery for  three  years  until  I  met  her  as 
your  wife,  at  your  house.  She  was  surprised 
as  I  was,  and  frightened  as  I  wasn't.  She 
spent  the  whole  interview  in  telling  me  the 
history  of  her  marriage  and  her  life  with 
you,  and  nothing  more.  I  cannot  say  that 
it  was  remarkably  entertaining,  or  that  she 
was  as  amusing  as  your  wife  as  she  was  as 
Nell  Montgomery,  the  variety  actress.  When 
she  had  finished,  I  came  away." 

Mr.  Kylands,  who  had  seated  himself, 
made  a  movement  as  if  to  rise.  But  Mr. 
Hamlin  laid  his  hand  on  his  knee. 

"  I  asked  you  if  you  dared  to  listen.  I 
have  something  myself  to  say  of  that  inter- 
view. I  found  your  wife  wearing  the  old 
dresses  that  other  men  had  given  her,  and 
she  said  she  wore  them  because  she  thought 
it  pleased  you.  I  found  that  you,  who  are 
questioning  my  calling  upon  her,  had  already 
got  the  worst  of  her  old  chums  to  visit  her 
without  asking  her  consent;  I  found  that 
instead  of  being  the  first  one  to  lie  for  her 
and  hide  her,  you  were  the  first  one  to  tell 


ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      55 

anybody  her  history,  just  because  you  thought 
it  was  to  the  glory  of  God  generally,  and 
of  Joshua  Rylands  in  particular." 

"A  man's  motives  are  his  own,"  stam- 
mered Rylands. 

"  Sorry  you  did  n't  see  it  when  you  ques- 
tioned mine  just  now,"  said  Jack  coolly. 

"  Then  she  complained  to  you  ? "  said 
Rylands  hesitatingly. 

"  I  did  n't  say  that,"  said  Jack  shortly. 

" But  you  found  her  unhappy?  " 

"  Damnably." 

"  And  you  advised  her  "  —  said  Rylands 
tentatively. 

"I  advised  her  to  chuck  you  and  try 
to  get  a  better  husband."  He  paused,  and 
then  added,  with  a  disgusted  laugh,  "  but 
she  didn't  tumble  to  it,  for  a  d — d  silly 
reason." 

"  What  reason  ?  "  said  Rylands  hurriedly. 

"Said  she  loved  you,"  returned  Jack, 
kicking  a  brand  back  into  the  fire.  Mr. 
Rylands's  white  cheeks  flamed  out  suddenly 
like  the  brand.  Seeing  which,  Jack  turned 
upon  him  deliberately. 

"  Mr.  Joshua  Rylands,  I  've  seen  many 
fools  in  my  time.  I  've  seen  men  holding 


56      ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

four  aces  backed  down  because  they  thought 
they  knew  the  other  man  had  a  royal  flush ! 
I  've  seen  a  man  sell  his  claim  for  a  wild-cat 
share,  with  the  gold  lying  a  foot  below  him 
in  the  ground  he  walked  on.  I  've  seen  a 
dead  shot  shoot  wild  because  he  thought  he 
saw  something  in  the  other  man's  eye.  I  've 
seen  a  heap  of  God-forsaken  fools,  but  I 
never  saw  one  before  who  claimed  Hod  as 
a  pal.  You've  got  a  wife  a  d — d  sight 
truer  to  you  for  what  you  call  her  '  sin,' 
than  you  've  ever  been  to  her,  with  all  your 
d — d  salvation !  And  as  you  could  n't  make 
her  otherwise,  though  you  've  tried  to  hard 
enough,  it  seems  to  me  that  for  square  down- 
right chuckle-headedness,  you  can  take  the 
cake  !  Good-night !  Now,  run  away  and 
play  !  You  're  making  me  tired." 

"  One  moment,"  said  Mr.  Ry lands  awk- 
wardly and  hurriedly.  "  I  may  have  wronged 
you ;  I  was  mistaken.  Won't  you  come  back 
with  me  and  accept  my  —  our  —  hospi- 
tality ?  " 

"  Not  much,"  said  Jack.  "  I  left  your 
house  because  I  thought  it  better  for  you 
and  her  that  no  one  should  know  of  my 
being  there." 


ME.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION      57 

"  But  you  were  already  recognized,"  said 
Mr.  Ry lands.  "  It  was  Jane  who  lied  about 
you,  and  your  return  with  me  will  confute 
her  slanders." 

"Who?"  asked  Jack. 

"  Jane,  our  hired  girl." 

Mr.  Hamlin  uttered  an  indescribable 
laugh. 

"  That 's  just  as  well !  You  simply  tell 
Jane  you  saw  me ;  that  I  was  greatly 
shocked  at  what  she  said,  but  that  I  forgive 
her.  I  don't  think  she  '11  say  any  more." 

Strange  to  add,  Mr.  Hamlin's  surmise 
was  correct.  Mr.  Rylands  found  Jane  still 
in  the  kitchen  alone,  terrified,  remorse- 
ful, yet  ever  after  silent  on  the  subject. 
Stranger  still,  the  hired  man  became  equally 
uncommunicative.  Mrs.  Rylands,  attribut- 
ing her  husband's  absence  only  to  care  of 
the  stock,  had  gone  to  bed  in  a  feverish  con- 
dition, and  Mr.  Rylands  did  not  deem  it 
prudent  to  tell  her  of  his  interview.  The 
next  day  she  sent  for  the  doctor,  and  it  was 
deemed  necessary  for  her  to  keep  her  bed 
for  a  few  days.  Her  husband  was  singularly 
attentive  and  considerate  during  that  time, 


58      MB.  JACK  HAMLIN'S  MEDIATION 

and  it  was  probable  that  Mrs.  Eylands 
seized  that  opportunity  to  tell  him  the  se- 
cret she  spoke  of  the  night  before.  What- 
ever it  was,  —  for  it  was  not  generally  known 
for  a  few  months  later,  —  it  seemed  to  draw 
them  closer  together,  imparted  a  protecting 
dignity  to  Joshua  Bylands,  which  took  the 
place  of  his  former  selfish  austerity,  gave 
them  a  future  to  talk  of  confidentially,  hope- 
fully, and  sometimes  foolishly,  which  took 
the  place  of  their  more  foolish  past,  and 
when  the  roll  of  calico  came  from  the  cross 
roads,  it  contained  also  a  quantity  of  fine 
linen,  laces,  small  caps,  and  other  trifles, 
somewhat  in  contrast  to  the  more  homely 
materials  ordered. 

And  when  three  months  were  past,  the 
sitting-room  was  often  lit  up  and  made 
cheerful,  particularly  on  that  supreme  occa- 
sion when,  with  a  great  deal  of  enthusiasm, 
all  the  women  of  the  countryside  flocked  to 
see  Mrs.  Rylands  and  her  first  baby.  And 
a  more  considerate  and  devoted  couple  than 
the  father  and  mother  they  had  never  known. 


THE  MAN  AT  THE   SEMAPHOEE 

IN  the  early  days  of  the  Californian  immi- 
gration, on  the  extremest  point  of  the  sandy 
peninsula,  where  the  bay  of  San  Francisco 
debouches  into  the  Pacific,  there  stood  a 
semaphore  telegraph.  Tossing  its  black 
arms  against  the  sky,  —  with  its  back  to  the 
Golden  Gate  and  that  vast  expanse  of  sea 
whose  nearest  shore  was  Japan,  —  it  signi- 
fied to  another  semaphore  further  inland  the 
"  rigs  "  of  incoming  vessels,  by  certain  un- 
couth signs,  which  were  again  passed  on  to 
Telegraph  Hill,  San  Francisco,  where  they 
reappeared  on  a  third  semaphore,  and  read 
to  the  initiated  "  schooner,"  "  brig  "  "  ship," 
or  "  steamer."  But  all  homesick  San  Fran- 
cisco had  learned  the  last  sign,  and  on  cer- 
tain days  of  the  month  every  eye  was  turned 
to  welcome  those  gaunt  arms  widely  extended 
at  right  angles,  which  meant  "  sidewheel 
steamer "  (the  only  steamer  which  carried 
the  mails)  and  "  letters  from  home."  In 
the  joyful  reception  accorded  to  that  herald 


60       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

of  glad  tidings,  very  few  thought  of  the 
lonely  watcher  on  the  sand  dunes  who  dis- 
patched them,  or  even  knew  of  that  deso- 
late station. 

For  desolate  it  was  beyond  description. 
The  Presidio,  with  its  voiceless,  dismounted 
cannon  and  empty  embrasures  hidden  in  a 
hollow,  and  the  Mission  Dolores,  with  its 
crumbling  walls  and  belfry  tower  lost  in 
another,  made  the  ultima  thule  of  all  San 
Francisco  wandering.  The  Cliff  House  and 
Fort  Point  did  not  then  exist ;  from  Black 
Point  the  curving  line  of  shore  of  "  Yerba 
Buena  "  —  or  San  Francisco  —  showed  only 
a  stretch  of  glittering  wind-swept  sand 
dunes,  interspersed  with  straggling  gullies 
of  half-buried  black  "scrub  oak."  The 
long  six  months  '  summer  sun  fiercely  beat 
upon  it  from  the  cloudless  sky  above ;  the 
long  six  months'  trade  winds  fiercely  beat 
upon  it  from  the  west ;  the  monotonous  roll- 
call  of  the  long  Pacific  surges  regularly  beat 
upon  it  from  the  sea.  Almost  impossible 
to  face  by  day  through  sliding  sands  and 
buffeting  winds,  at  night  it  was  impracti- 
cable through  the  dense  sea-fog  that  stole 
softly  through  the  Golden  Gate  at  sunset. 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHOEE      61 

Thence,  until  morning,  sea  and  shore  were 
a  trackless  waste,  bounded  only  by  the 
warning  thunders  of  the  unseen  sea.  The 
station  itself,  a  rudely  built  cabin,  with  two 
windows,  —  one  furnished  with  a  telescope, 
—  looked  like  a  heap  of  driftwood,  or  a 
stranded  wreck  left  by  the  retiring  sea ;  the 
semaphore  —  the  only  object  for  leagues  — 
lifted  above  the  undulating  dunes,  took  upon 
itself  various  shapes,  more  or  less  gloomy, 
according  to  the  hour  or  weather,  —  a  blasted 
tree,  the  masts  and  clinging  spars  of  a 
beached  ship,  a  dismantled  gallows  ;  or, 
with  the  background  of  a  golden  sunset 
across  the  Gate,  and  its  arms  extended  at 
right  angles,  to  a  more  hopeful  fancy  it 
might  have  seemed  the  missionary  Cross, 
which  the  enthusiast  Portala  lifted  on  that 
heathen  shore  a  hundred  years  before. 

Not  that  Dick  Jarman  —  the  solitary  sta- 
tion keeper  —  ever  indulged  this  fancy.  An 
escaped  convict  from  one  of  her  Britannic 
Majesty's  penal  colonies,  a  "  stowaway  "  in 
the  hold  of  an  Australian  ship,  he  had 
landed  penniless  in  San  Francisco,  fearful 
of  contact  with  his  more  honest  countrymen 
already  there,  and  liable  to  detection  at  any 


62       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

moment.  Luckily  for  him,  the  English  im- 
migration consisted  mainly  of  gold-seekers 
en  route  to  Sacramento  and  the  southern 
mines.  He  was  prudent  enough  to  resist 
the  temptation  to  follow  them,  and  accepted 
the  post  of  semaphore  keeper,  —  the  first 
work  offered  him,  —  which  the  meanest  im- 
migrant, filled  with  dreams  of  gold,  would 
have  scorned.  His  employers  asked  him  no 
questions,  and  demanded  no  references ; 
his  post  could  be  scarcely  deemed  one  of 
trust,  —  there  was  no  property  for  him  to 
abscond  with  but  the  telescope ;  he  was  re- 
moved from  temptation  and  evil  company  in 
his  lonely  waste  ;  his  duties  were  as  mechan- 
ical as  the  instrument  he  worked,  and  inter- 
ruption of  them  would  be  instantly  known 
at  San  Francisco.  For  this  he  would  receive 
his  board  and  lodging  and  seventy-five  dol- 
lars a  month,  —  a  sum  to  be  ridiculed  in 
those  "  flush  days,"  but  which  seemed  to  the 
broken-spirited  and  half-famished  stowaway 
a  princely  independence. 

And  then  there  was  rest  and  security! 
He  was  free  from  that  torturing  anxiety 
and  fear  of  detection  which  had  haunted 
him  night  and  day  for  three  months.  The 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      63 

ceaseless  vigilance  and  watchful  dread  he 
had  known  since  his  escape,  he  could  lay 
aside  now.  The  rude  cabin  on  the  sand 
dune  was  to  him  as  the  long-sought  cave  to 
some  hunted  animal.  It  seemed  impossible 
that  any  one  would  seek  him  there.  He 
was  spared  alike  the  contact  of  his  enemies 
or  the  shame  of  recognizing  even  a  friendly 
face,  until  by  each  he  would  be  forgotten. 
From  his  coign  of  vantage  on  that  desolate 
waste,  and  with  the  aid  of  his  telescope,  no 
stranger  could  approach  within  two  or  three 
miles  of  his  cabin  without  undergoing  his 
scrutiny.  And  at  the  worst,  if  he  was  pur- 
sued here,  before  him  was  the  trackless 
shore  and  the  boundless  sea ! 

And  at  times  there  was  a  certain  satisfac- 
tion in  watching,  unseen  and  in  perfect 
security,  the  decks  of  passing  ships.  With 
the  aid  of  his  glass  he  could  mingle  again 
with  the  world  from  which  he  was  debarred, 
and  gloomily  wonder  who  among  those  pas- 
sengers knew  their  solitary  watcher,  or  had 
heard  of  his  deeds ;  it  might  have  made  him 
gloomier  had  he  known  that  in  those  eager 
faces  turned  towards  the  golden  haven  there 
was  little  thought  of  anything  but  them- 


64       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

selves.  He  tried  to  read  in  faces  on  board 
the  few  outgoing  ships  the  record  of  their 
success  with  a  strange  envy.  They  were 
returning  home!  Home!  For  sometimes 

—  but    seldom  —  he    thought    of    his    own 
home  and  his  past.     It  was  a  miserable  past 
of  forgery  and  embezzlement  that  had  cul- 
minated a  career  of  youthful  dissipation  and 
self-indulgence,  and  shut  him  out,  forever, 
from  the  staid  old  English  cathedral  town 
where  he  was  born.     He  knew  that  his  re- 
lations believed  and  wished  him  dead.     He 
thought  of  this  past  with  little  pleasure,  but 
with  little  remorse.    Like  most  of  his  stamp, 
he  believed  it  was  ill-luck,  chance,  somebody 
else's  fault,  but  never  his  own  responsible 
action.     He  would  not  repent ;  he  would  be 
wiser  only.     And  he  would  not  be  retaken 

—  alive! 

Two  or  three  months  passed  in  this  mono- 
tonous duty,  in  which  he  partly  recovered  his 
strength  and  his  nerves.  He  lost  his  furtive, 
restless,  watchful  look ;  the  bracing  sea  air 
and  the  burning  sun  put  into  his  face  the 
healthy  tan  and  the  uplifted  frankness  of  a 
sailor.  His  eyes  grew  keener  from  long  scan- 
ning of  the  horizon  ;  he  knew  where  to  look 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      65 

for  sails,  from  the  creeping  coastwise  schooner 
to  the  far-rounding  merchantman  from 
Cape  Horn.  He  knew  the  faint  line  of 
haze  that  indicated  the  steamer  long  before 
her  masts  and  funnels  became  visible.  He 
saw  no  soul  except  the  solitary  boatman  of 
the  little  "  plunger,"  who  landed  his  weekly 
provisions  at  a  small  cove  hard  by.  The 
boatman  thought  his  secretiveness  and  reti- 
cence only  the  surliness  of  his  nation,  and 
cared  little  for  a  man  who  never  asked  for 
the  news,  and  to  whom  he  brought  no  let- 
ters. The  long  nights  which  wrapped  the 
cabin  in  sea-fog,  and  at  first  seemed  to 
heighten  the  exile's  sense  of  security,  by 
degrees,  however,  became  monotonous,  and 
incited  an  odd  restlessness,  which  he  was 
wont  to  oppose  by  whiskey,  —  allowed  as  a 
part  of  his  stores,  —  which,  while  it  dulled 
his  sensibilities,  he,  however,  never  permitted 
to  interfere  with  his  mechanical  duties. 

He  had  been  there  five  months,  and  the 
hills  on  the  opposite  shore  between  Tamal- 
pais  were  already  beginning  to  show  their 
russet  yellow  sides.  One  bright  morning  he 
was  watching  the  little  fleet  of  Italian  fishing- 
boats  hovering  in  the  bay.  This  was  always 


66       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

a  picturesque  spectacle,  perhaps  the  only 
one  that  relieved  the  general  monotony  of 
his  outlook.  The  quaint  lateen  sails  of  dull 
red,  or  yellow,  showing  against  the  sparkling 
waters,  and  the  red  caps  or  handkerchiefs 
of  the  fishermen,  might  have  attracted  even 
a  more  abstracted  man.  Suddenly  one  of 
the  larger  boats  tacked,  and  made  directly 
for  the  little  cove  where  his  weekly  plunger 
used  to  land.  In  an  instant  he  was  alert 
and  suspicious.  But  a  close  examination  of 
the  boat  through  his  glass  satisfied  him  that 
it  contained,  in  addition  to  the  crew,  only 
two  or  three  women,  apparently  the  family 
of  the  fishermen.  As  it  ran  up  on  the 
beach  and  the  entire  party  disembarked,  he 
could  see  it  was  merely  a  careless,  peaceable 
invasion,  and  he  thought  no  more  about  it. 
The  strangers  wandered  about  the  sands, 
gesticulating  and  laughing ;  they  brought 
a  pot  ashore,  built  a  fire,  and  cooked  a 
homely  meal.  He  could  see  that  from  time 
to  time  the  semaphore  —  evidently  a  nov- 
elty to  them  —  had  attracted  their  atten- 
tion; and  having  occasion  to  signal  the 
arrival  of  a  bark,  the  working  of  the  un- 
couth arms  of  the  instrument  drew  the  chil- 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      67 

dren  in  half-frightened  curiosity  towards  it, 
although  the  others  held  aloof,  as  if  fearful 
of  trespassing  upon  some  work  of  the  gov- 
ernment, no  doubt  secretly  guarded  by  the 
police.  A  few  mornings  later  he  was  sur- 
prised to  see  upon  the  beach,  near  the  same 
locality,  a  small  heap  of  lumber  which  had 
evidently  been  landed  in  the  early  morning 
fog.  The  next  day  an  old  tent  appeared  on 
the  spot,  and  the  men,  evidently  fishermen, 
began  the  erection  of  a  rude  cabin  beside  it. 
Jarman  had  been  long  enough  there  to  know 
that  it  was  government  land,  and  that  these 
manifestly  humble  "  squatters "  upon  it 
would  not  be  interfered  with  for  some  time 
to  come.  He  began  to  be  uneasy  again  ;  it 
was  true  they  were  fully  half  a  mile  from 
him,  and  they  were  foreigners ;  but  might 
not  their  reckless  invasion  of  the  law  attract 
others,  in  this  lawless  country,  to  do  the 
same  ?  It  ought  to  be  stopped.  For  once 
Richard  Jarman  sided  with  legal  authority. 
But  when  the  cabin  was  completed,  it 
was  evident  from  what  he  saw  of  its  rude 
structure  that  it  was  only  a  temporary  shel- 
ter for  the  fisherman's  family  and  the  stores, 
and  refitting  of  the  fishing-boat,  more  con- 


68       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

venient  to  them  than  the  San  Francisco 
wharves.  The  beach  was  utilized  for  the 
mending  of  nets  and  sails,  and  thus  became 
half  picturesque.  In  spite  of  the  keen 
northwestern  trades,  the  cloudless,  sunshiny 
mornings  tempted  these  southerners  back 
to  their  native  alfresco  existence ;  they  not 
only  basked  in  the  sun,  but  many  of  their 
household  duties,  and  even  the  mysteries  of 
their  toilet,  were  performed  in  the  open  air. 
They  did  not  seem  to  care  to  penetrate  into 
the  desolate  region  behind  them  ;  their  half- 
amphibious  habit  kept  them  near  the  water's 
edge,  and  Richard  Jarman,  after  taking  his 
limited  walks  for  the  first  few  mornings  in 
another  direction,  found  it  no  longer  neces- 
sary to  avoid  the  locality,  and  even  forgot 
their  propinquity. 

But  one  morning,  as  the  fog  was  clearing 
away  and  the  sparkle  of  the  distant  sea  was 
beginning  to  show  from  his  window,  he  rose 
from  his  belated  breakfast  to  fetch  water 
from  the  "  breaker  "  outside,  which  had  to  be 
replenished  weekly  from  Sancelito,  as  there 
was  no  spring  in  his  vicinity.  As  he  opened 
the  door,  he  was  inexpressibly  startled  by 
the  figure  of  a  young  woman  standing  in 


TEE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      69 

front  of  it,  who,  however,  half  fearfully, 
half  laughingly  withdrew  before  him.  But 
his  own  manifest  disturbance  apparently 
gave  her  courage. 

"  I  jess  was  looking  at  that  thing,"  she 
said  bashfully,  pointing  to  the  semaphore. 

He  was  still  more  astonished,  for,  look- 
ing at  her  dark  eyes  and  olive  complexion, 
he  had  expected  her  to  speak  Italian  or 
broken  English.  And,  possibly  because  for 
a  long  time  he  had  seen  and  known  little  of 
women,  he  was  quite  struck  with  her  good 
looks.  He  hesitated,  stammered,  and  then 
said :  — 

"  Won't  you  come  in  ?  " 

She  drew  back  still  farther  and  made  a 
rapid  gesture  of  negation  with  her  head,  her 
hand,  and  even  her  whole  lithe  figure.  Then 
she  said,  with  a  decided  American  intona- 
tion :  — 

«  No,  sir." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Jarman  mechanically. 

The  girl  sidled  up  against  the  cabin,  keep- 
ing her  eyes  fixed  on  Jarman  with  a  certain 
youthful  shrewdness. 

"  Oh,  you  know !  "  she  said. 

"  I  really  do  not.     Tell  me  why." 


70       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

She  drew  herself  up  against  the  wall  a 
little  proudly,  though  still  youthfully,  with 
her  hands  behind  her. 

"  I  ain't  that  kind  of  girl,"  she  said 
simply. 

The  blood  rushed  to  Jarman's  cheeks.  Dis- 
sipated and  abandoned  as  his  life  had  been, 
small  respecter  of  women  as  he  was,  he  was 
shocked  and  shamed.  Knowing  too,  as  he 
did,  how  absorbed  he  was  in  other  things,  he 
was  indignant,  because  not  guilty. 

"  Do  as  you  please,  then,"  he  said  shortly, 
and  reentered  the  cabin.  But  the  next 
moment  he  saw  his  error  in  betraying  an  irri- 
tation that  was  open  to  misconstruction. 
He  came  out  again,  scarcely  looking  at  the 
girl,  who  was  lounging  away. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  explain  to  you  how 
the  thing  works  ?  "  he  said  indifferently.  "  I 
can't  show  you  unless  a  ship  comes  in." 

The  girl's  eyes  brightened  softly  as  she 
turned  to  him. 

"  Do  tell  me,"  she  said,  with  an  antici- 
patory smile  and  flash  of  white  teeth. 
"Won't  you?" 

She  certainly  was  very  pretty  and  simple, 
in  spite  of  her  late  speech.  Jarman  briefly 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHOEE      71 

explained  to  her  the  movements  of  the  sema- 
phore arms  and  their  different  significance. 
She  listened  with  her  capped  head  a  little 
on  one  side  like  an  attentive  bird,  and  her 
arms  unconsciously  imitating  the  signs. 
Certainly,  for  all  that  she  spoke  like  an 
American,  her  gesticulation  was  Italian. 

"  And  then,"  she  said  triumphantly  when 
he  paused,  "•  when  the  sailors  see  that  sign 
up  they  know  they  are  coming  in  the  har- 
bor." 

Jarman  smiled,  as  he  had  not  smiled 
since  he  had  been  there.  He  corrected  this 
mistake  of  her  eager  haste  to  show  her  intel- 
ligence, and,  taking  the  telescope,  pointed 
out  the  other  semaphore,  —  a  thin  black 
outline  on  a  distant  inland  hill.  He  then 
explained  how  his  signs  were  repeated  by 
that  instrument  to  San  Francisco. 

"  My !  Why,  I  always  allowed  that  was 
only  the  cross  stuck  up  in  the  Lone  Moun- 
tain Cemetery,"  she  said. 

"You  are  a  Catholic?" 

"  I  reckon." 

"  And  you  are  an  Italian  ?  " 

"  Father  is,  but  mother  was  a  'Merikan, 
same  as  me.  Mother  's  dead." 


72       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

' '  And  your  father  is  the  fisherman  yon- 
der?" 

"  Yes,  —  but,"  with  a  look  of  pride,  "  he  's 
got  the  biggest  boat  of  any." 

"  And  only  you  and  your  family  are 
ashore  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  sometimes  Mark."  She  laughed 
an  odd  little  laugh. 

"  Mark  ?     Who  's  he  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

He  had  not  noticed  the  sudden  coquettish 
pose  and  half-affected  bashfulness  of  the 
girl ;  he  was  thinking  only  of  the  possibility 
of  detection  by  strangers. 

"Oh,  he  is  Marco  Franti,  but  I  call 
him  '  Mark.'  It 's  the  same  name,  you  know, 
and  it  makes  him  mad,"  said  the  girl,  with 
the  same  suggestion  of  archness  and  co- 
quetry. 

But  all  this  was  lost  on  Jarman. 

"  Oh,  another  Italian,"  he  said,  relieved. 
She  turned  away  a  little  awkwardly  when 
he  added,  "  But  you  have  n  t  told  me  your 
name,  you  know." 

"Cara." 

"  Cara,  —  that 's  '  dear '  in  Italian,  is  n't 
it?"  he  said,  with  a  reminiscence  of  the 
opera  and  a  half  smile. 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      73 

"  Yes,"  she  said  a  little  scornfully,  "  but 
it  means  Carlotta,  —  Charlotte,  you  know. 
Some  girls  call  me  Charley,"  she  said  hur- 
riedly. 

"  I  see  —  Cara  —  or  Carlotta  Franti.  " 

To  his  surprise  she  burst  into  a  peal  of 
laughter. 

"I  reckon  not  yet.  Franti  is  Mark's 
name,  not  mine.  Mine  is  Murano,  —  Car- 
lotta Murano.  Good-by."  She  moved  away, 
then  stopped  suddenly  and  said,  "  I  'm 
comin'  again  some  time  when  the  thing  is 
working,"  and  with  a  nod  of  her  head,  ran 
away.  He  looked  after  her  ;  could  see  the 
outlines  of  her  youthful  figure  in  her  slim 
cotton  gown,  —  limp  and  clinging  in  the 
damp  sea  air,  and  the  sudden  revelation 
of  her  bare  ankles  thrust  stockingless  into 
canvas  shoes. 

He  went  back  into  his  cabin,  when  pre- 
sently his  attention  was  engrossed  by  an  in- 
coming vessel.  He  made  the  signals,  half 
expecting,  almost  hoping,  that  the  girl  would 
return  to  watch  him.  But  her  figure  was 
already  lost  in  the  sand  dunes.  Yet  he 
fancied  he  still  heard  the  echoes  of  her  voice 
and  his  own  in  this  cabin  which  had  so  long 


74       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

been  dumb  and  voiceless,  and  he  now  started 
at  every  sound.  For  the  first  time  he  be- 
came aware  of  the  dreadful  disorder  and 
untidiness  of  its  uninvaded  privacy.  He 
could  scarcely  believe  he  had  been  living 
with  his  stove,  his  bed,  and  cooking  uten- 
sils all  in  one  corner  of  the  barnlike  room, 
and  he  began  to  put  them  "  to  rights  "  in  a 
rough,  hard  formality,  strongly  suggestive 
of  his  convict  experience.  He  rolled  up  his 
blankets  into  a  hard  cylinder  at  the  head 
of  his  cot.  He  scraped  out  his  kettles  and 
saucepans,  and  even  "  washed  down "  the 
floor,  afterwards  sprinkling  clean  dry  sand, 
hot  with  the  noonday  sunshine,  on  its  half- 
dried  boards.  In  arranging  these  domestic 
details  he  had  to  change  the  position  of  a 
little  mirror ;  and  glancing  at  it  for  the  first 
time  in  many  days,  he  was  dissatisfied  with 
his  straggling  beard,  —  grown  during  his 
voyage  from  Australia,  —  and  although  he 
had  retained  it  as  a  disguise,  he  at  once 
shaved  it  off,  leaving  only  a  mustache,  and 
revealing  a  face  from  which  a  healthier  life 
and  out-of-door  existence  had  removed  the 
last  traces  of  vice  and  dissipation.  But  he 
did  not  know  it. 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      75 

All  the  next  day  he  thought  of  his  fair 
visitor,  and  found  himself  often  repeating 
her  odd  remark  that  she  was  "  not  that  kind 
of  girl,"  with  a  smile  that  was  alternately 
significant  or  vacant.  Evidently  she  could 
take  care  of  herself,  he  thought,  although 
her  very  good  looks  no  doubt  had  exposed 
her  to  the  rude  attentions  of  fishermen  or 
the  common  drift  of  San  Francisco  wharves. 
Perhaps  this  was  why  her  father  brought 
her  here.  When  the  day  passed  and  she 
came  not,  he  began  vaguely  to  wonder  if 
he  had  been  rude  to  her.  Perhaps  he  had 
taken  her  simple  remark  too  seriously ;  per- 
haps she  had  expected  he  would  only  laugh, 
and  had  found  him  dull  and  stupid.  Per- 
haps he  had  thrown  away  an  opportunity. 
An  opportunity  for  what?  To  renew  his 
old  life  and  habits  ?  No,  no !  The  horrors 
of  his  recent  imprisonment  and  escape  were 
still  too  fresh  in  his  memory ;  he  was  not 
safe  yet.  Then  he  wondered  if  he  had  not 
grown  spiritless  and  pigeon-livered  in  his 
solitude  and  loneliness.  The  next  day  he 
searched  for  her  with  his  glass,  and  saw  her 
playing  with  one  of  the  children  on  the 
beach,  —  a  very  picture  of  child  or  nymph 


76       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

like  innocence.  Perhaps  it  was  because  she 
was  not  "  that  kind  of  girl "  that  she  had 
attracted  him.  He  laughed  bitterly.  Yes ; 
that  was  very  funny;  he,  an  escaped  con- 
vict, drawn  towards  honest,  simple  innocence  ! 
Yet  he  knew — he  was  positive  —  he  had 
not  thought  of  any  ill  when  he  spoke  to  her. 
He  took  a  singular,  a  ridiculous  pride  in 
and  credit  to  himself  for  that.  He  repeated 
it  incessantly  to  himself.  Then  what  made 
her  angry?  Himself!  The  devil!  Did 
he  carry,  then,  the  record  of  his  past  life 
forever  in  his  face — in  his  speech  —  in  his 
manners?  The  thought  made  him  sullen. 
The  next  day  he  would  not  look  towards  the 
shore  ;  it  was  wonderful  what  excitement 
and  satisfaction  he  got  out  of  that  strange 
act  of  self-denial ;  it  made  the  day  seem  full 
that  had  been  so  vacant  before ;  yet  he 
could  not  tell  why  or  wherefore.  He  felt 
injured,  but  he  rather  liked  it.  Yet  in  the 
night  he  was  struck  with  the  idea  that  she 
might  have  gone  back  to  San  Francisco, 
and  he  lay  awake  longing  for  the  morning 
light  to  satisfy  him.  Yet  when  the  fog 
cleared,  and  from  a  nearer  point,  behind  a 
sand  dune,  he  discovered,  by  the  aid  of  his 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      11 

glass,  that  she  was  seated  on  the  sun- warmed 
sands  combing  out  her  long  hair  like  a  mer- 
maid, he  immediately  returned  to  the  cabin, 
and  that  morning  looked  no  more  that  way. 
In  the  afternoon,  there  being  no  sails  in 
sight,  he  turned  aside  from  the  bay  and 
walked  westward  towards  the  ocean,  halt- 
ing only  at  the  league-long  line  of  foam 
which  marked  the  breaking  Pacific  surges. 
Here  he  was  surprised  to  see  a  little  child, 
half-naked,  following  barefooted  the  creep- 
ing line  of  spume,  or  running  after  the  de- 
tached and  quivering  scraps  of  foam  that 
chased  each  other  over  the  wet  sand,  and 
only  a  little  further  on,  to  come  upon  Cara 
herself,  sitting  with  her  elbows  on  her  knees 
and  her  round  chin  in  her  hands,  appar- 
ently gazing  over  the  waste  of  waters  before 
her.  A  sudden  and  inexplicable  shyness 
overtook  him.  He  hesitated,  and  stepped 
half-hidden  in  a  gully  between  the  sand 
dunes. 

As  yet  he  had  not  been  observed ;  the 
young  girl  called  to  the  child  and,  suddenly 
rising,  threw  off  her  red  cap  and  shawl  and 
quietly  began  to  disrobe  herself.  A  couple 
of  coarse  towels  were  at  her  feet.  Jarman 


78       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

instantly  comprehended  that  she  was  going 
to  bathe  with  the  child.  She  undoubtedly 
knew  as  well  as  he  did  that  she  was  safe  in 
that  solitude ;  that  no  one  could  intrude 
upon  her  privacy  from  the  bay  shore,  nor 
from  the  desolate  inland  trail  to  the  sea, 
without  her  knowledge.  Of  his  own  con- 
tiguity she  had  evidently  taken  no  thought, 
believing  him  safely  housed  in  his  cabin  be- 
side the  semaphore.  She  lifted  her  hands, 
and  with  a  sudden  movement  shook  out  her 
long  hair  and  let  it  fall  down  her  back  at 
the  same  moment  that  her  unloosened  blouse 
began  to  slip  from  her  shoulders.  Richard 
Jarman  turned  quickly  and  walked  noise- 
lessly and  rapidly  away,  until  the  little  hill- 
ock had  shut  out  the  beach. 

His  retreat  was  as  sudden,  unreasoning, 
and  unpremeditated  as  his  intrusion.  It  was 
not  like  himself,  he  knew,  and  yet  it  was  as 
perfectly  instinctive  and  natural  as  if  he  had 
intruded  upon  a  sister.  In  the  South  Seas 
he  had  seen  native  girls  diving  beside  the 
vessels  for  coins,  but  they  had  provoked  no 
such  instinct  as  that  which  possessed  him 
now.  More  than  that,  he  swept  a  quick, 
wrathful  glance  along  the  horizon  on  either 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      79 

side,  and  then,  mounting  a  remote  hillock 
which  still  hid  him  from  the  beach,  he  sat 
there  and  kept  watch  and  ward.  From  time 
to  time  the  strong  sea-breeze  brought  him 
the  sound  of  infantine  screams  and  shouts  of 
girlish  laughter  from  the  unseen  shore  ;  he 
only  looked  the  more  keenly  and  suspiciously 
for  any  wandering  trespasser,  and  did  not 
turn  his  head.  He  lay  there  nearly  half  an 
hour,  and  when  the  sounds  had  ceased,  rose 
and  made  his  way  slowly  back  to  the  cabin. 
He  had  not  gone  many  yards  before  he 
heard  the  twitter  of  voices  and  smothered 
laughter  behind  him.  He  turned  ;  it  was 
Cara  and  the  child,  —  a  girl  of  six  or  seven. 
Cara's  face  was  rosy,  —  possibly  from  her 
bath,  and  possibly  from  some  shame-faced 
consciousness.  He  slackened  his  pace,  and 
as  they  ranged  beside  him  said,  "  Good- 
morning  ! " 

"  Lord ! "  said  Cara,  stifling  another 
laugh,  "  we  did  n't  know  you  were  around  ; 
we  thought  you  were  always  'tending  your 
telegraph,  did  n't  we,  Lucy  ?  "  (to  the  child, 
who  was  convulsed  with  mirth  and  sheepish- 
ness).  "  Why,  we  've  been  taking  a  wash 
in  the  sea."  She  tried  to  gather  up  her 


80       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

long  hair,  which  had  been  left  to  stray  over 
her  shoulders  and  dry  in  the  sunlight,  and 
even  made  a  slight  pretense  of  trying  to 
conceal  the  wet  towels  they  were  carrying. 

Jarman  did  not  laugh.  "  If  you  had  told 
me,"  he  said  gravely,  "  I  could  have  kept 
watch  for  you  with  my  glass  while  you  were 
there.  I  could  see  further  than  you." 

"  Tould  you  see  us  ?  "  asked  the  little  girl, 
with  hopeful  vivacity. 

"  No  !  "  said  Jarman,  with  masterly  eva- 
sion. "  There  are  little  sandhills  between 
this  and  the  beach." 

"  Then  how  tould  other  people  see  us  ?  " 
persisted  the  child. 

Jarman  could  see  that  the  older  girl  was 
evidently  embarrassed,  and  changed  the 
subject.  "  I  sometimes  go  out,"  he  said, 
"  when  I  can  see  there  are  no  vessels  in 
sight,  and  I  take  my  glass  with  me.  1 1  can 
always  get  back  in  time  to  make  signals.  I 
thought,  in  fact,"  he  said,  glancing  at  Cara's 
brightening  face,  "  that  I  might  get  as  far 
as  your  house  on  the  shore  some  day."  To 
his  surprise,  her  embarrassment  suddenly 
seemed  to  increase,  although  she  had  looked 
relieved  before,  and  she  did  not  reply. 
After  a  moment  she  said  abruptly  :  — 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      81 

"  Did  you  ever  see  the  sea-lions  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Jarman. 

"  Not  the  big  ones  on  Seal  Rock,  beyond 
the  cliffs  ?  "  continued  the  girl,  in  real  aston- 
ishment. 

"  No,"  repeated  Jarman.  "  I  never 
walked  in  that  direction."  He  vaguely  re- 
membered that  they  were  a  curiosity  which 
sometimes  attracted  parties  thither,  and  for 
that  reason  he  had  avoided  the  spot. 

"  Why,  I  have  sailed  all  around  the  rock  in 
father's  boat,"  continued  Cara,  with  impor- 
tance. "  That 's  the  best  way  to  see  'em,  and 
folks  from  Frisco  sometimes  takes  a  sail 
out  there  just  on  purpose,  —  it 's  too  sandy 
to  walk  or  drive  there.  But  it's  only  a 
step  from  here.  Look  here !  "  she  said  sud- 
denly, and  frankly  opening  her  fine  eyes 
upon  him.  "  I  'm  going  to  take  Lucy  there 
to-morrow,  and  I  '11  show  you."  Jarman 
felt  his  cheeks  flush  quickly  with  a  plea- 
sure that  embarrassed  him.  "  It  won't  take 
long,"  added  Cara,  mistaking  his  momentary 
hesitation,  "  and  you  can  leave  your  tele- 
graph alone.  Nobody  will  be  there,  so  no 
one  will  see  you  and  nobody  know  it." 

He  would  have  gone  then,  anyway,   he 


82       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHOEE 

knew,  yet  in  his  absurd  self-consciousness 
he  was  glad  that  her  last  suggestion  had 
relieved  him  of  a  sense  of  reckless  compli- 
ance. He  assented  eagerly,  when  with  a 
wave  of  her  hand,  a  flash  of  her  white  teeth, 
and  the  same  abruptness  she  had  shown  at 
their  last  parting,  she  caught  Lucy  by  the 
arm  and  darted  away  in  a  romping  race  to 
her  dwelling.  Jarman  started  after  her. 
He  had  not  wanted  to  go  to  her  father's 
house  particularly,  but  why  was  she  evi- 
dently as  averse  to  it?  With  the  subtle 
pleasure  that  this  admission  gave  him  there 
was  a  faint  stirring  of  suspicion. 

It  was  gone  when  he  found  her  and  Lucy 
the  next  morning,  radiant  with  the  sunshine, 
before  his  door.  The  restraint  of  their  pre- 
vious meetings  had  been  removed  in  some 
mysterious  way,  and  they  chatted  gayly  as 
they  walked  towards  the  cliffs.  She  asked 
him  frankly  many  questions  about  himself, 
why  he  had  come  there,  and  if  he  "  was  n't 
lonely ;  "  she  answered  frankly  —  I  fear 
much  more  frankly  than  he  answered  her  — 
the  many  questions  he  asked  her  about  her- 
self and  her  friends.  When  they  reached 
the  cliffs  they  descended  to  the  beach,  which 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE       83 

they  found  deserted.  Before  them  —  it 
seemed  scarce  a  pistol  shot  from  the  shore 
—  arose  a  high,  broad  rock,  beaten  at  its 
base  by  the  long  Pacific  surf,  on  which  a 
number  of  shapeless  animals  were  uncouthly 
disporting.  This  was  Seal  Rock,  the  goal 
of  their  journey. 

Yet  after  a  few  moments  they  no  longer 
looked  at  it,  but  seated  on  the  sand,  with 
Lucy  gathering  shells  at  the  water's  edge, 
they  continued  their  talk.  Presently  the 
talk  became  eager  confidences,  and  then,  — 
there  were  long  and  dangerous  lapses  of 
silence,  when  both  were  fain  to  make  per- 
functory talk  with  Lucy  on  the  beach.  After 
one  of  those  silences  Jarman  said :  — 

"  Do  you  know  I  rather  thought  yester- 
day you  did  n't  want  me  to  come  to  your 
father's  house.  Why  was  that  ?  " 

"  Because  Marco  was  there,"  said  the 
girl  frankly. 

"What  had  he  to  do  with  it?"  said 
Jarman  abruptly. 

"  He  wants  to  marry  me." 

"  And  do  you  want  to  marry  him  f  "  said 
Jarman  quickly. 

"  No,"  said  the  girl  passionately. 


84       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHOEE 

"  Why  don't  you  get  rid  of  him,  then  ?  " 

"  I  can't,  he  's  hiding  here,  —  he  's  father's 
friend." 

"  Hiding  ?     What 's  he  been  doing  ?  " 

"  Stealing.  Stealing  gold-dust  from  min- 
ers. I  never  cared  for  him  anyway.  And 
I  hate  a  thief ! " 

She  looked  up  quickly.  Jarman  had 
risen  to  his  feet,  his  face  turned  to  sea. 

"  What  are  you  looking  at  ?  "  she  said 
wonderingly. 

"  A  ship,"  said  Jarman,  in  a  strange, 
hoarse  voice.  "I  must  hurry  back  and 
signal.  I  'm  afraid  I  have  n't  even  time  to 
walk  with  you,  —  I  must  run  for  it.  Good- 
by!" 

He  turned  without  offering  his  hand  and 
ran  hurriedly  in  the  direction  of  the  sema- 
phore. 

Cara,  discomfited,  turned  her  black  eyes 
to  the  sea.  But  it  seemed  empty  as  before, 
no  sail,  no  ship  on  the  horizon  line,  only 
a  little  schooner  slowly  beating  out  of  the 
Gate.  Ah,  well!  It  no  doubt  was  there, 
—  that  sail,  —  though  she  could  not  see  it ; 
how  keen  and  far-seeing  his  handsome,  hon- 
est eyes  were !  She  heaved  a  little  sigh, 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      85 

and,  calling  Lucy  to  her  side,  began  to 
make  her  way  homeward.  But  she  kept 
her  eyes  on  the  semaphore ;  it  seemed  to 
her  the  next  thing  to  seeing  him, — this 
man  she  was  beginning  to  love.  She  waited 
for  the  gaunt  arms  to  move  with  the  signal 
of  the  vessel  he  had  seen.  But,  strange  to 
say,  it  was  motionless.  He  must  have  been 
mistaken. 

All  this,  however,  was  driven  from  her 
mind  in  the  excitement  that  she  found  on 
her  return  thrilling  her  own  family.  They 
had  been  warned  that  a  police  boat  with  de- 
tectives on  board  had  been  dispatched  from 
San  Francisco  to  the  cove.  Luckily,  they 
had  managed  to  convey  the  fugitive  Franti 
on  board  a  coastwise  schooner,  —  Cara 
started  as  she  remembered  the  one  she  had 
seen  beating  out  of  the  Gate,  —  and  he  was 
now  safe  from  pursuit.  Cara  felt  relieved ; 
at  the  same  time  she  felt  a  strange  joy  at 
her  heart,  which  sent  the  conscious  blood 
to  her  cheek.  She  was  not  thinking  of  the 
escaped  Marco,  but  of  Jarman.  Later,  when 
the  police  boat  arrived,  —  whether  the  de- 
tectives had  been  forewarned  of  Marco's 
escape  or  not,  —  they  contented  themselves 


86       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

with  a  formal  search  of  the  little  fishing-hut 
and  departed.  But  their  boat  remained 
lying  off  the  shore. 

That  night  Cara  tossed  sleeplessly  on  her 
bed  ;  she  was  sorry  she  had  ever  spoken  of 
Marco  to  Jarman.  It  was  unnecessary  now  ; 
perhaps  he  disbelieved  her  and  thought  she 
loved  Marco  ;  perhaps  that  was  the  reason 
of  his  strange  and  abrupt  leave-taking  that 
afternoon.  She  longed  for  the  next  day, 
she  could  tell  him  everything  now. 

Towards  morning  she  slept  fitfully,  but 
was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  voices  on  the 
sands  outside  the  hut.  Its  flimsy  structure, 
already  warped  by  the  fierce  day-long  sun, 
allowed  her  through  chinks  and  crevices 
not  only  to  recognize  the  voices  of  the  detec- 
tives, but  to  hear  distinctly  what  they  said. 
Suddenly  the  name  of  Jarman  struck  upon 
her  ear.  She  sat  upright  in  bed,  breath- 
less. 

"  Are  you  sure  it 's  the  same  man  ? " 
asked  a  second  voice. 

"  Perfectly,"  answered  the  first.  "  He 
was  tracked  to  'Frisco,  but  disappeared  the 
day  he  landed.  We  knew  from  our  agents 
that  he  never  left  the  bay.  And  when  we 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      87 

found  that  somebody  answering  his  descrip- 
tion got  the  post  of  telegraph  operator  out 
here,  we  knew  that  we  had  spotted  our  man 
and  the  X250  sterling  offered  for  his  cap- 
ture." 

"  But  that  was  five  months  ago.  Why 
did  n't  you  take  him  then  ?  " 

"  Could  n't !  For  we  could  n't  hold  him 
without  the  extradition  papers  from  Austra- 
lia. We  sent  for  'em ;  they  're  due  to-day 
or  to-morrow  on  the  mail  steamer." 

"But  he  might  have  got  away  at  any 
time  ?  " 

"  He  could  n't  without  our  knowing  it. 
Don't  you  see  ?  Every  time  the  signals 
went  up,  we  in  San  Francisco  knew  he  was 
at  his  post.  We  had  him  safe,  out  here 
on  these  sandhills,  as  if  he  'd  been  under 
lock  and  key  in  'Frisco.  He  was  his  own 
keeper,  and  reported  to  us." 

"  But  since  you  're  here  and  expect  the 
papers  to-morrow,  why  don't  you  '  cop  '  him 
now  ?  " 

"  Because  there  is  n't  a  judge  in  San 
Francisco  that  would  hold  him  a  moment 
unless  he  had  those  extradition  papers  be- 
fore him.  He  'd  be  discharged,  and  escape." 


88       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

"  Then  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 
"  As  soon  as  the  steamer  is  signaled  in 
'Frisco,  we  '11  board  her  in  the  bay,  get  the 
papers,  and  drop  down  upon  him/' 

"  I  see  ;  and  as  he 's  the  signal  man,  the 
darned  fool "  — 

"  Will  give  the  signal  himself." 
The  laugh  that  followed  was  so  cruel  that 
the  young  girl  shuddered.       But  the  next 
moment    she   slipped   from   the   bed,   erect, 
pale,  and  determined. 

The  voices  seemed  gradually  to  retreat. 
She  dressed  herself  hurriedly,  and  passed 
noiselessly  through  the  room  of  her  still 
sleeping  parent,  and  passed  out.  A  gray 
fog  was  lifting  slowly  over  the  sands  and 
sea,  and  the  police  boat  was  gone.  She  no 
longer  hesitated,  but  ran  quickly  in  the  di- 
rection of  Jarmau's  cabin.  As  she  ran,  her 
mind  seemed  to  be  swept  clear  of  all  illusion 
and  fancy  ;  she  saw  plainly  everything  that 
had  happened ;  she  knew  the  mystery  of 
Jarman's  presence  here,  —  the  secret  of  his 
life,  —  the  dreadful  cruelty  of  her  remark 
to  him,  —  the  man  that  she  knew  now  she 
loved.  The  sun  was  painting  the  black  arms 
of  the  semaphore  as  she  toiled  over  the  last 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE      89 

stretch  of  sand  and  knocked  loudly  at  the 
door.  There  was  no  reply.  She  knocked 
again ;  the  cabin  was  silent.  Had  he  al- 
ready fled  ?  —  and  without  seeing  her  and 
knowing  all !  She  tried  the  handle  of  the 
door  ;  it  yielded ;  she  stepped  boldly  into 
the  room,  with  his  name  upon  her  lips.  He 
was  lying  fully  dressed  upon  his  couch. 
She  ran  eagerly  to  his  side  and  stopped. 
It  needed  only  a  single  glance  at  his  con- 
gested face,  his  lips  parted  with  his  heavy 
breath,  to  see  that  the  man  was  hopelessly, 
helplessly  drunk ! 

Yet  even  then,  without  knowing  that  it 
was  her  thoughtless  speech  which  had  driven 
him  to  seek  this  foolish  oblivion  of  remorse 
and  sorrow,  she  saw  only  his  helplessness. 
She  tried  in  vain  to  rouse  him;  he  only 
muttered  a  few  incoherent  words  and  sank 
back  again.  She  looked  despairingly  around. 
Something  must  be  done  ;  the  steamer  might 
be  visible  at  any  moment.  Ah,  yes,  —  the 
telescope !  She  seized  it  and  swept  the 
horizon.  There  was  a  faint  streak  of  haze 
against  the  line  of  sea  and  sky,  abreast  the 
Golden  Gate.  He  had  once  told  her  what 
it  meant.  It  was  the  steamer  !  A  sudden 


90       THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHOEE 

thought  leaped  into  her  clear  and  active 
brain.  If  the  police  boat  should  chance  to 
see  that  haze  too,  and  saw  no  warning  sig- 
nal from  the  semaphore,  they  would  suspect 
something.  That  signal  must  be  made, 
but  not  the  right  one !  She  remembered 
quickly  how  he  had  explained  to  her  the 
difference  between  the  signals  for  a  coast- 
ing steamer  and  the  one  that  brought  the 
mails.  At  that  distance  the  police  boat 
could  not  detect  whether  the  semaphore's 
arms  were  extended  to  perfect  right  angles 
for  the  mail  steamer,  or  if  the  left  arm 
slightly  deflected  for  a  coasting  steamer. 
She  ran  out  to  the  windlass  and  seized  the 
crank.  For  a  moment  it  defied  her  strength  ; 
she  redoubled  her  efforts :  it  began  to  creak 
and  groan,  the  great  arms  were  slowly  up- 
lifted, and  the  signal  made. 

But  the  familiar  sounds  of  the  moving 
machinery  had  pierced  through  Jarman's 
sluggish  consciousness  as  no  other  sound  in 
heaven  or  earth  could  have  done,  and  awak- 
ened him  to  the  one  dominant  sense  he  had 
left,  —  the  habit  of  duty.  She  heard  him 
roll  from  the  bed  with  an  oath,  stumble  to 
the  door,  and  saw  him  dash  forward  with  an 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE       91 

affrighted  face,  and  plunge  his  head  into  a 
bucket  of  water.  He  emerged  from  it  pale 
and  dripping,  but  with  the  full  light  of 
reason  and  consciousness  in  his  eyes.  He 
started  when  he  saw  her ;  even  then  she 
would  have  fled,  but  he  caught  her  firmly 
by  the  wrist. 

Then  with  a  hurried,  trembling  voice  she 
told  him  all  and  everything.  He  listened  in 
silence,  and  only  at  the  end  raised  her  hand 
gravely  to  his  lips. 

"  And  now,"  she  added  tremulously,  "  you 
must  fly  —  quick  —  at  once  ;  or  it  will  be 
too  late  ! " 

But  Richard  Jarman  walked  slowly  to  the 
door  of  his  cabin,  still  holding  her  hand,  and 
said  quietly,  pointing  to  his  only  chair :  — 

"  Sit  down ;  we  must  talk  first." 

What  they  said  was  never  known,  but  a 
few  moments  later  they  left  the  cabin,  Jar- 
man carrying  in  a  small  bag  all  his  posses- 
sions, and  Cara  leaning  on  his  arm.  An 
hour  later  the  priest  of  the  Mission  Dolores 
was  called  upon  to  unite  in  matrimony  a 
frank,  honest-looking  sailor  and  an  Italian 
gypsy-looking  girl.  There  were  many  hasty 
unions  in  those  days,  and  the  Holy  Church 


92        THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE 

was  only  too  glad  to  be  able  to  give  them  its 
legal  indorsement.  But  the  good  Padre  was 
a  little  sorry  for  the  honest  sailor,  and  gave 
the  girl  some  serious  advice. 

The  San  Francisco  papers  the  next  morn- 
ing threw  some  dubious  light  upon  the  mat- 
ter in  a  paragraph  headed,  "  Another  Police 
Fiasco." 

"  We  understand  that  the  indefatigable 
police  of  San  Francisco,  after  ascertaining 
that  Marco  Franti,  the  noted  gold-dust  thief, 
was  hiding  on  the  shore  near  the  Presidio, 
proceeded  there  with  great  solemnity,  and 
arrived,  as  usual,  a  few  hours  after  their 
man  had  escaped.  But  the  climax  of  in- 
capacity was  reached  when,  as  it  is  alleged, 
the  sweetheart  of  the  absconding  Franti, 
and  daughter  of  a  brother  fisherman,  eloped 
still  later,  and  joined  her  lover  under  the 
very  noses  of  the  police.  The  attempt  of 
the  detectives  to  excuse  themselves  at  head- 
quarters by  reporting  that  they  were  also 
on  the  track  of  an  alleged  escaped  Sydney 
Duck  was  received  with  the  derision  and 
skepticism  it  deserved,  as  it  seemed  that 
these  worthies  mistook  the  mail  steamer, 
which  they  should  have  boarded  to  get 


THE  MAN  AT  THE  SEMAPHORE       93 

certain  extradition   papers,  for    a   coasting 
steamer." 


It  was  not  until  four  years  later  that 
Murano  was  delighted  to  recognize  in  the 
husband  of  his  long-lost  daugliter  a  very 
rich  cattle-owner  in  Southern  California, 
called  Jarman ;  but  he  never  knew  that  he 
had  been  an  escaped  convict  from  Sydney, 
who  had  lately  received  a  full  pardon  through 
the  instrumentality  of  divers  distinguished 
people  in  Australia. 


AN  ESMERALDA  OF  ROCKY 


IT  is  to  be  feared  that  the  hero  of  this 
chronicle  began  life  as  an  impostor.  He 
was  offered  to  the  credulous  and  sympa- 
thetic family  of  a  San  Francisco  citizen  as  a 
lamb,  who,  unless  bought  as  a  playmate  for 
the  children,  would  inevitably  pass  into  the 
butcher's  hands.  A  combination  of  refined 
sensibility  and  urban  ignorance  of  nature 
prevented  them  from  discerning  certain  glar- 
ing facts  that  betrayed  his  caprid  origin. 
So  a  ribbon  was  duly  tied  round  his 
neck,  and  in  pleasing  emulation  of  the 
legendary  "Mary,"  he  was  taken  to  school 
by  the  confiding  children.  Here,  alas  !  the 
fraud  was  discovered,  and  history  was  re- 
versed by  his  being  turned  out  by  the 
teacher,  because  he  was  not  "  a  lamb  at 
school."  Nevertheless,  the  kind-hearted  mo- 
ther of  the  family  persisted  in  retaining 
him,  on  the  plea  that  he  might  yet  become 
"  useful."  To  her  husband's  feeble  sugges- 


AN  ESMEEALDA  OF  ROCKY  CANON     95 

tion  of  "  gloves,"  she  returned  a  scornful 
negative,  and  spoke  of  the  weakly  infant  of 
a  neighbor,  who  might  later  receive  nourish- 
ment from  this  providential  animal.  But 
even  this  hope  was  destroyed  by  the  eventual 
discovery  of  his  sex.  Nothing  remained 
now  but  to  accept  him  as  an  ordinary  kid, 
and  to  find  amusement  in  his  accomplish- 
ments, —  eating,  climbing,  and  butting.  It 
must  be  confessed  that  these  were  of  a  supe- 
rior quality ;  a  capacity  to  eat  everything 
from  a  cambric  handkerchief  to  an  election 
poster,  an  agility  which  brought  him  even  to 
the  roofs  of  houses,  and  a  power  of  overturn- 
ing by  a  single  push  the  chubbiest  child  who 
opposed  him,  made  him  a  fearful  joy  to  the 
nursery.  This  last  quality  was  incautiously 
developed  in  him  by  a  negro  boy-servant, 
who,  later,  was  hurriedly  propelled  down  a 
flight  of  stairs  by  his  too  proficient  scholar. 
Having  once  tasted  victory,  "  Billy  "  needed 
no  further  incitement  to  his  performances. 
The  small  wagon  which  he  sometimes  con- 
sented to  draw  for  the  benefit  of  the  children 
never  hindered  his  attempts  to  butt  the 
passer-by.  On  the  contrary,  on  well-known 
scientific  principles  he  added  the  impact  of 


96   AN  ESMERALDA  OF  ROCKY  CANON 

the  bodies  of  the  children  projected  over 
his  head  in  his  charge,  and  the  infelicitous 
pedestrian  found  himself  not  only  knocked 
off  his  legs  by  Billy,  but  bombarded  by  the 
whole  nursery. 

Delightful  as  was  this  recreation  to 
juvenile  limbs,  it  was  felt  to  be  dangerous 
to  the  adult  public.  Indignant  protesta- 
tions were  made,  and  as  Billy  could  not  be 
kept  in  the  house,  he  may  be  said  to  have 
at  last  butted  himself  out  of  that  sympa- 
thetic family  and  into  a  hard  and  unfeeling 
world.  One  morning  he  broke  his  tether 
in  the  small  back  yard.  For  several  days 
thereafter  he  displayed  himself  in  guilty 
freedom  on  the  tops  of  adjacent  walls  and 
outhouses.  The  San  Francisco  suburb 
where  his  credulous  protectors  lived  was  still 
in  a  volcanic  state  of  disruption,  caused  by 
the  grading  of  new  streets  through  rocks 
and  sandhills.  In  consequence  the  roofs  of 
some  houses  were  on  the  level  of  the  door- 
steps of  others,  and  were  especially  adapted 
to  Billy's  performances.  One  afternoon,  to 
the  admiring  and  perplexed  eyes  of  the 
nursery,  he  was  discovered  standing  on  the 
apex  of  a  neighbor's  new  Elizabethan  chiin- 


AN  ESMEEALDA   OF  EOCKT  CANON     97 

ney,  on  a  space  scarcely  larger  than  the 
crown  of  a  hat,  calmly  surveying  the  world 
beneath  him.  High  infantile  voices  appealed 
to  him  in  vain  ;  baby  arms  were  outstretched 
to  him  in  hopeless  invitation ;  he  remained 
exalted  and  obdurate,  like  Milton's  hero, 
probably  by  his  own  merit  "  raised  to  that 
bad  eminence."  Indeed,  there  was  already 
something  Satanic  in  his  budding  horns  and 
pointed  mask  as  the  smoke  curled  softly 
around  him.  Then  he  appropriately  van- 
ished, and  San  Francisco  knew  him  no  more. 
At  the  same  time,  however,  one  Owen 
M'Ginnis,  a  neighboring  sandhill  squatter, 
also  disappeared,  leaving  San  Francisco  for 
the  southern  mines,  and  he  was  said  to  have 
taken  Billy  with  him,  —  for  no  conceivable 
reason  except  for  companionship.  Howbeit, 
it  was  the  turning-point  of  Billy's  career ; 
such  restraint  as  kindness,  civilization,  or 
even  policemen  had  exercised  upon  his  na- 
ture was  gone.  He  retained,  I  fear,  a  cer- 
tain wicked  intelligence,  picked  up  in  San 
Francisco  with  the  newspapers  and  theatri- 
cal and  election  posters  he  had  consumed. 
He  reappeared  at  Rocky  Canon  among  the 
miners  as  an  exceedingly  agile  chamois, 


98   AN  ESMEEALDA  OF  ROCKY  CANON 

with  the  low  cunning  of  a  satyr.     That  was 
all  that  civilization  had  done  for  him ! 

If  Mr.  M'Ginnis  had  fondly  conceived 
that  he  would  make  Billy  "  useful,"  as  well 
as  companionable,  he  was  singularly  mis- 
taken. Horses  and  mules  were  scarce  La 
Rocky  Canon,  and  he  attempted  to  utilize 
Billy  by  making  him  draw  a  small  cart, 
laden  with  auriferous  earth,  from  his  claim 
to  the  river.  Billy,  rapidly  gaining  strength, 
was  quite  equal  to  the  task,  but  alas!  not 
his  inborn  propensity.  An  incautious  ges- 
ture from  the  first  passing  miner  Billy  chose 
to  construe  into  the  usual  challenge.  Low- 
ering his  head,  from  which  his  budding 
horns  had  been  already  pruned  by  his  mas- 
ter, he  instantly  went  for  his  challenger,  cart 
and  all.  Again  the  scientific  law  already 
pointed  out  prevailed.  With  the  shock  of 
the  onset  the  entire  contents  of  the  cart 
arose  and  poured  over  the  astonished  miner, 
burying  him  from  sight.  In  any  other  but 
a  Californian  mining-camp  such  a  propen- 
sity in  a  draught  animal  would  have  been 
condemned,  on  account  of  the  damage  and 
suffering  it  entailed,  but  in  Rocky  Canon  it 
proved  unprofitable  to  the  owner  from  the 


AN  ESMERALDA   OF  BOCKY  CANON     99 

very  amusement  and  interest  it  excited. 
Miners  lay  in  wait  for  Billy  with  a  "  green- 
horn," or  new-comer,  whom  they  would  put 
up  to  challenge  the  animal  by  some  indis- 
creet gesture.  In  this  way  hardly  a  cartload 
of  "  pay-gravel "  ever  arrived  safely  at  its 
destination,  and  the  unfortunate  M'Ginnis 
was  compelled  to  withdraw  Billy  as  a  beast 
of  burden.  It  was  whispered  that  so  great 
had  his  propensity  become,  under  repeated 
provocation,  that  M'Ginnis  himself  was  no 
longer  safe.  Going  ahead  of  his  cart  one 
day  to  remove  a  fallen  bough  from  the  trail, 
Billy  construed  the  act  of  stooping  into  a 
playful  challenge  from  his  master,  —  with 
the  inevitable  result. 

The  next  day  M'Ginnis  appeared  with  a 
wheelbarrow,  but  without  Billy.  From  that 
day  he  was  relegated  to  the  rocky  crags 
above  the  camp,  from  whence  he  was  only 
lured  occasionally  by  the  mischievous  min- 
ers, who  wished  to  exhibit  his  peculiar  per- 
formances. For  although  Billy  had  ample- 
food  and  sustenance  among  the  crags,  he 
had  still  a  civilized  longing  for  posters ;  and 
whenever  a  circus,  a  concert,  or  a  political 
meeting  was  "  billed  "  in  the  settlement,  he 


100      AN  ESMERALDA   OF  ROCKY  CANON 

was  on  hand  while  the  paste  was  yet  fresh 
and  succulent.  In  this  way  it  was  averred 
that  he  once  removed  a  gigantic  theatre  bill 
setting  forth  the  charms  of  the  "  Sacramento 
Pet,"  and  being  caught  in  the  act  by  the 
advance  agent,  was  pursued  through  the 
main  street,  carrying  the  damp  bill  on  his 
horns,  eventually  affixing  it,  after  his  own 
peculiar  fashion,  on  the  back  of  Judge 
Boompointer,  who  was  standing  in  front  of 
his  own  court-house. 

In  connection  with  the  visits  of  this  young 
lady  another  story  concerning  Billy  survives 
in  the  legends  of  Rocky  Canon.  Colonel 
Starbottle  was  at  that  time  passing  through 
the  settlement  on  election  business,  and  it 
was  part  of  his  chivalrous  admiration  for 
the  sex  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  pretty  actress. 
The  single  waiting-room  of  the  little  hotel 
gave  upon  the  veranda,  which  was  also  level 
with  the  street.  After  a  brief  yet  gallant 
interview,  in  which  he  oratorically  expressed 
the  gratitude  of  the  settlement  with  old- 
fashioned  Southern  courtesy,  Colonel  Star- 
bottle  lifted  the  chubby  little  hand  of  the 
"  Pet "  to  his  lips,  and,  with  a  low  bow, 
backed  out  upon  the  veranda.  But  the  Pet 


AN  ESMEEALDA   OF  EOCEY  CANON     101 

was  astounded  by  his  instant  reappearance, 
and  by  his  apparently  casting  himself  pas- 
sionately and  hurriedly  at  her  feet !  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  he  was  followed  closely 
by  Billy,  who  from  the  street  had  casually 
noticed  him,  and  construed  his  novel  exit 
into  an  ungentlemanly  challenge. 

Billy's  visits,  however,  became  less  fre- 
quent, and  as  Rocky  Canon  underwent  the 
changes  incidental  to  mining  settlements,  he 
was  presently  forgotten  in  the  invasion  of  a 
few  Southwestern  families,  and  the  adoption 
of  amusements  less  practical  and  turbulent 
than  he  had  afforded.  It  was  alleged  that 
he  was  still  seen  in  the  more  secluded  fast- 
nesses of  the  mountains,  having  reverted  to 
a  wild  state,  and  it  was  suggested  by  one  or 
two  of  the  more  adventurous  that  he  might 
yet  become  edible,  and  a  fair  object  of  chase. 
A  traveler  through  the  Upper  Pass  of  the 
canon  related  how  he  had  seen  a  savage-look- 
ing, hairy  animal  like  a  small  elk  perched 
upon  inaccessible  rocks,  but  always  out  of 
gunshot.  But  these  and  other  legends  were 
set  at  naught  and  overthrown  by  an  unex- 
pected incident. 

The  Pioneer  Coach  was   toiling   up    the 


102      AN  ESMERALDA  OF  ROCKY  CANON 

long  grade  towards  Skinners  Pass  when 
Yuba  Bill  suddenly  pulled  up,  with  his  feet 
on  the  brake. 

"  Jimminy !  "    he  ejaculated,  drawing  a 
deep  breath. 

The  startled  passenger  beside  him  on 
the  box  followed  the  direction  of  his  eyes. 
Through  an  opening  in  the  wayside  pines 
he  could  see,  a  few  hundred  yards  away,  a 
cuplike  hollow  in  the  hillside  of  the  vividest 
green.  In  the  centre  a  young  girl  of  fifteen 
or  sixteen  was  dancing  and  keeping  step  to 
the  castanet  "  click  "  of  a  pair  of  "  bones," 
such  as  negro  minstrels  use,  held  in  her 
hands  above  her  head.  But,  more  singular 
still,  a  few  paces  before  her  a  large  goat, 
with  its  neck  roughly  wreathed  with  flowers 
and  vines,  was  taking  ungainly  bounds  and 
leaps  in  imitation  of  its  companion.  The 
wild  background  of  the  Sierras,  the  pastoral 
hollow,  the  incongruousness  of  the  figures, 
and.  the  vivid  color  of  the  girl's  red  flannel 
petticoat  showing  beneath  her  calico  skirt, 
that  had  been  pinned  around  her  waist,  made 
a  striking  picture,  which  by  this  time  had  at- 
tracted all  eyes.  Perhaps  the  dancing  of  the 
girl  suggested  a  negro  "  break-down  "  rather 


AN  ESMEEALDA  OF  EOCKY  CANON     103 

than  any  known  sylvan  measure  ;  but  all 
this,  and  even  the  clatter  of  the  bones,  was 
made  gracious  by  the  distance. 

"  Esmeralda  !  by  the  living  Harry !  " 
shouted  the  excited  passenger  on  the  box. 

Yuba  Bill  took  his  feet  off  the  brake,  and 
turned  a  look  of  deep  scorn  upon  his  com- 
panion as  he  gathered  the  reins  again. 

"  It 's  that  blanked  goat,  outer  Rocky 
Canon  beyond,  and  Polly  Harkness  !  How 
did  she  ever  come  to  take  up  with  him-?  " 

Nevertheless,  as  soon  as  the  coach  reached 
Rocky  Canon,  the  story  was  quickly  told 
by  the  passengers,  corroborated  by  Yuba 
Bill,  and  highly  colored  by  the  observer  on 
the  box-seat.  Harkness  was  known  to  be  a 
new-comer  who  lived  with  his  wife  and  only 
daughter  on  the  other  side  of  Skinners  Pass. 
He  was  a  "logger"  and  charcoal-burner, 
who  had  eaten  his  way  into  the  serried  ranks 
of  pines  below  the  pass,  and  established 
in  these  efforts  an  almost  insurmountable 
cordon  of  fallen  trees,  stripped  bark,  and 
charcoal  pits  around  the  clearing  where  his 
rude  log  hut  stood,  —  which  kept  his  seclu- 
sion unbroken.  He  was  said  to  be  a  half- 
savage  mountaineer  from  Georgia,  in  whose 


104  AN  ESMERALDA  OF  EOCKY  CANON 

rude  fastnesses  he  had  distilled  unlawful  whis- 
key, and  that  his  tastes  and  habits  unfitted 
him  for  civilization.  His  wife  chewed  and 
smoked ;  he  was  believed  to  make  a  fiery 
brew  of  his  own  from  acorns  and  pine  nuts ; 
he  seldom  came  to  Rocky  Canon  except  for 
provisions ;  his  logs  were  slipped  down  a 
"  shoot "  or  slide  to  the  river,  where  they 
voyaged  once  a  month  to  a  distant  mill,  but 
he  did  not  accompany  them.  The  daughter, 
seldom  seen  at  Rocky  Canon,  was  a  half- 
grown  girl,  brown  as  autumn  fern,  wild-eyed, 
disheveled,  in  a  homespun  skirt,  sunbonnet, 
and  boy's  brogans.  Such  were  the  plain 
facts  which  skeptical  Rocky  Canon  opposed 
to  the  passengers'  legends.  Nevertheless, 
some  of  the  younger  miners  found  it  not  out 
of  their  way  to  go  over  Skinners  Pass  on 
the  journey  to  the  river,  but  with  what  suc- 
cess was  not  told.  It  was  said,  however, 
that  a  celebrated  New  York  artist,  making 
a  tour  of  California,  was  on  the  coach  one 
day  going  through  the  pass,  and  preserved 
the  memory  of  what  he  saw  there  in  a  well- 
known  picture  entitled  "  Dancing  Nymph 
and  Satyr,"  said  by  competent  critics  to 
be  "  replete  with  the  study  of  Greek  life." 


AN  ESMERALDA   OF  ROCKY  CANON     105 

This  did  not  affect  Rocky  Canon,  where  the 
study  of  mythology  was  presumably  dis- 
placed by  an  experience  of  more  wonderful 
flesh-and-blood  people,  but  later  it  was  re- 
membered with  some  significance. 

Among  the  improvements  already  noted, 
a  zinc  and  wooden  chapel  had  been  erected 
in  the  main  street,  where  a  certain  popular 
revivalist  preacher  of  a  peculiar  South- 
western sect  regularly  held  exhortatory  ser- 
vices. His  rude  emotional  power  over  his 
ignorant  fellow-sectarians  was  well  known, 
while  curiosity  drew  others.  His  effect  upon 
the  females  of  his  flock  was  hysterical  and 
sensational.  Women  prematurely  aged  by 
frontier  drudgery  and  child-bearing,  girls 
who  had  known  only  the  rigors  and  pains  of 
a  half-equipped,  ill-nourished  youth  in  their 
battling  with  the  hard  realities  of  nature 
around  them,  all  found  a  strange  fascina- 
tion in  the  extravagant  glories  and  privi- 
leges of  the  unseen  world  he  pictured  to 
them,  which  they  might  have  found  in  the 
fairy  tales  and  nursery  legends  of  civilized 
children,  had  they  known  them.  Person- 
ally he  was  not  attractive  ;  his  thin  pointed 
face,  and  bushy  hair  rising  on  either  side  of 


106  AN  ESMEEALDA  OF  ROCKY  CANON 

his  square  forehead  in  two  rounded  knots, 
and  his  long,  straggling,  wiry  beard  drop- 
ping from  a  strong  neck  and  shoulders,  were 
indeed  of  a  common  Southwestern  type  ;  yet 
in  him  they  suggested  something  more. 
This  was  voiced  by  a  miner  who  attended 
his  first  service,  and  as  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Withholder  rose  in  the  pulpit,  the  former 
was  heard  to  audibly  ejaculate,  "  Dod 
blasted  !  — if  it  ain't  Billy  !  "  But  when  on 
the  following  Sunday,  to  everybody's  aston- 
ishment, Polly  Harkness,  in  a  new  white 
muslin  frock  and  broad-brimmed  Leghorn 
hat,  appeared  before  the  church  door  with 
the  real  Billy,  and  exchanged  conversation 
with  the  preacher,  the  likeness  was  appalling. 

I  grieve  to  say  that  the  goat  was  at  once 
christened  by  Rocky  Canon  as  "  The  Rev- 
erend Billy,"  and  the  minister  himself  was 
Billy's  u  brother."  More  than  that,  when 
an  attempt  was  made  by  outsiders,  during 
the  service,  to  inveigle  the  tethered  goat  into 
his  old  butting  performances,  and  he  took 
not  the  least  notice  of  their  insults  and 
challenges,  the  epithet  "  blanked  hypocrite  " 
was  added  to  his  title. 

Had  he  really  reformed  ?     Had  his  pas- 


AN  ESMERALDA   OF  ROCKY  CANON      107 

toral  life  with  his  nymph-like  mistress  com- 
pletely cured  him  of  his  pugnacious  pro- 
pensity, or  had  he  simply  found  it  was 
inconsistent  with  his  dancing,  and  seriously 
interfered  with  his  "  fancy  steps  "  ?  Had 
he  found  tracts  and  hymn-books  were  as 
edible  as  theatre  posters  ?  These  were  ques- 
tions that  Rocky  Canon  discussed  lightly, 
although  there  was  always  the  more  serious 
mystery  of  the  relations  of  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Withholder,  Polly  Harkness,  and  the 
goat  towards  each  other.  The  appearance 
of  Polly  at  church  was  no  doubt  due  to  the 
minister's  active  canvass  of  the  districts. 
But  had  he  ever  heard  of  Polly's  dancing 
with  the  goat  ?  And  where  in  this  plain, 
angular,  badly  dressed  Polly  was  hidden  that 
beautiful  vision  of  the  dancing  nymph  which 
had  enthralled  so  many?  And  when  had 
Billy  ever  given  any  suggestion  of  his  Terp- 
sichorean  abilities  —  before  or  since  ?  Were 
there  any  "  points "  of  the  kind  to  be  dis- 
cerned in  him  now  ?  None !  Was  it  not 
more  probable  that  the  Reverend  Mr.  With- 
holder had  himself  been  dancing  with  Polly, 
and  been  mistaken  for  the  goat?  Passen- 
gers who  could  have  been  so  deceived  with 


108      AN  ESMERALDA  OF  EOCKY  CANON 

regard  to  Polly's  beauty  might  have  as  easily 
mistaken  the  minister  for  Billy.  About  this 
time  another  incident  occurred  which  in- 
creased the  mystery. 

The  only  male  in  the  settlement  who  ap- 
parently dissented  from  the  popular  opin- 
ion regarding  Polly  was  a  new-comer,  Jack 
Filgee.  While  discrediting  her  performance 
with  the  goat,  —  which  he  had  never  seen, 
—  he  was  evidently  greatly  prepossessed 
with  the  girl  herself.  Unfortunately,  he 
was  equally  addicted  to  drinking,  and  as  he 
was  exceedingly  shy  and  timid  when  sober, 
and  quite  unpresentable  at  other  times,  his 
wooing,  if  it  could  be  so  called,  progressed 
but  slowly.  Yet  when  he  found  that  Polly 
went  to  church,  he  listened  so  far  to  the  ex- 
hortations of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Withholder 
as  to  promise  to  come  to  "  Bible  class  "  im- 
mediately after  the  Sunday  service.  It  was 
a  hot  afternoon,  and  Jack,  who  had  kept 
sober  for  two  days,  incautiously  fortified 
himself  for  the  ordeal  by  taking  a  drink  be- 
fore arriving.  He  was  nervously  early,  and 
immediately  took  a  seat  in  the  empty  church 
near  the  open  door.  The  quiet  of  the  build- 
ing, the  drowsy  buzzing  of  flies,  and  per- 


AN  ESMERALDA   OF  EOCKY  CANON     109 

haps  the  soporific  effect  of  the  liquor  caused 
his  eyes  to  close  and  his  head  to  fall  forward 
on  his  breast  repeatedly.  He  was  recover- 
ing himself  for  the  fourth  time  when  he 
suddenly  received  a  violent  cuff  on  the  ear, 
and  was  knocked  backward  off  the  bench 
on  which  he  was  sitting.  That  was  all  he 
knew. 

He  picked  himself  up  with  a  certain  dig- 
nity, partly  new  to  him,  and  partly  the  re- 
sult of  his  condition,  and  staggered,  some- 
what bruised  and  disheveled,  to  the  nearest 
saloon.  Here  a  few  frequenters  who  had 
seen  him  pass,  who  knew  his  errand  and  the 
devotion  to  Polly  which  had  induced  it,  ex- 
hibited a  natural  concern. 

"  How 's  things  down  at  the  gospel 
shop  ?  "  said  one.  "  Look  as  ef  you  'd  been 
wrastlin'  with  the  Sperit,  Jack !  " 

"  Old  man  must  hev  exhorted  pow'ful," 
said  another,  glancing  at  his  disordered 
Sunday  attire. 

"Ain't  be'n  hevin'  a  row  with  Polly? 
I'm  told  she  slings  an  awful  left." 

Jack,  instead  of  replying,  poured  out  a 
dram  of  whiskey,  drank  it,  and  putting  down 
his  glass,  leaned  heavily  against  the  counter 


110      AN  ESMERALDA   OF  EOCKY  CANON 

as  he  surveyed  his  questioners  with  a  sorrow 
chastened  by  reproachful  dignity. 

"I'm  a  stranger  here,  gentlemen,"  he 
said  slowly ;  "  ye  've  known  me  only  a  little ; 
but  ez  ye  've  seen  me  both  blind  drunk  and 
sober,  I  reckon  ye  've  caught  on  to  my 
gin'ral  gait !  Now  I  wanter  put  it  to  you, 
ez  fair-minded  men,  ef  you  ever  saw  me 
strike  a  parson  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  a  chorus  of  sympathetic 
voices.  The  barkeeper,  however,  with  a 
swift  recollection  of  Polly  and  the  Reverend 
Withholder,  and  some  possible  contingent 
jealousy  in  Jack,  added  prudently,  "Not 
yet." 

The  chorus  instantly  added  reflectively, 
"  Well,  no ;  not  yet." 

"  Did  ye  ever,"  continued  Jack  solemnly, 
"  know  me  to  cuss,  sass,  bully-rag,  or  say 
anything  agin  parsons,  or  the  church  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  crowd,  overthrowing  pru- 
dence in  curiosity,  "ye  never  did,  —  we 
swear  it !  And  now,  what 's  up  ?  " 

"  I  ain't  what  you  call  '  a  member  in  good 
standin','  "  he  went  on,  artistically  protract- 
ing his  climax.  "  I  ain't  be'n  convicted  o' 
sin ;  I  ain't  '  a  meek  an'  lowly  follower ; ' 


AN  ESMERALDA   OF  EOCKY  CANON     111 

I  ain't  be'n  exactly  what  I  orter  be'n ;  I 
hev  n't  lived  anywhere  up  to  my  lights  ;  but 
is  thet  a  reason  why  a  parson  should  strike 
me?" 

"Why?  What?  When  did  he?  Who 
did?"  asked  the  eager  crowd,  with  one  voice. 

Jack  then  painfully  related  how  he  had 
been  invited  by  the  Reverend  Mr.  With- 
holder  to  attend  the  Bible  class.  How  he 
had  arrived  early,  and  found  the  church 
empty.  How  he  had  taken  a  seat  near  the 
door  to  be  handy  when  the  parson  came. 
How  he  just  felt  "  kinder  kam  and  good," 
listenin'  to  the  flies  buzzing,  and  must  have 
fallen  asleep,  —  only  he  pulled  himself  up 
every  time,  —  though,  after  all,  it  war  n't 
no  crime  to  fall  asleep  in  an  empty  church ! 
How  "all  of  a  suddent "  the  parson  came 
in,  "give  him  a  clip  side  o'  the  head,"  and 
knocked  him  off  the  bench,  and  left  him 
there ! 

"  But  what  did  he  say  ? "  queried  the 
crowd. 

"  Nuthin'.  Afore  I  could  get  up,  he  got 
away." 

"  Are  you  sure  it  was  him?"  they  asked. 
"  You  know  you  say  you  was  asleep." 


112      AN  ESMEEALDA   OF  EOCKY  CANON 

"  Am  I  sure  ?  "  repeated  Jack  scornfully. 
"  Don't  I  know  thet  face  and  beard  ?  Did  n't 
I  feel  it  hangin'  over  me  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ? " 
continued  the  crowd  eagerly. 

"  Wait  till  he  comes  out  —  and  you  '11 
see,"  said  Jack,  with  dignity. 

This  was  enough  for  the  crowd ;  they 
gathered  excitedly  at  the  door,  where  Jack 
was  already  standing,  looking  towards  the 
church.  The  moments  dragged  slowly ;  it 
might  be  a  long  meeting.  Suddenly  the 
church  door  opened  and  a  figure  appeared, 
looking  up  and  down  the  street.  Jack 
colored  —  he  recognized  Polly  —  and  stepped 
out  into  the  road.  The  crowd  delicately, 
but  somewhat  disappointedly,  drew  back  in 
the  saloon.  They  did  not  care  to  interfere 
in  that  sort  of  thing. 

Polly  saw  him,  and  came  hurriedly 
towards  him.  She  was  holding  something 
in  her  hand. 

"  I  picked  this  up  on  the  church  floor," 
she  said  shyly,  "  so  I  reckoned  you  had 
be'n  there,  —  though  the  parson  said  you 
had  n't,  —  and  I  just  excused  myself  and 
ran  out  to  give  it  ye.  It 's  yourn,  ain't  it  ?  " 


AN  ESMEBALDA   OF  BOCKY  CANON      113 

She  held  up  a  gold  specimen  pin,  which  he 
had  put  on  in  honor  of  the  occasion.  "I 
had  a  harder  time,  though,  to  git  this  yer,  — 
it 's  yourn  too,  —  for  Billy  was  laying  down 
in  the  yard,  back  o'  the  church,  and  just 
comf'bly  swallerin'  it." 

"  Who  ?  "  said  Jack  quickly. 

"  Billy,  — my  goat." 

Jack  drew  a  long  breath,  and  glanced 
back  at  the  saloon.  «  Ye  ain't  goin'  back 
to  class  now,  are  ye?"  he  said  hurriedly. 
"  Ef  you  ain't,  I  '11  —  I  '11  see  ye  home." 

"  I  don't  mind,"  said  Polly  demurely,  "  if 
it  ain't  takin'  ye  outer  y'ur  way." 

Jack  offered  his  arm,  and  hurrying  past 
the  saloon,  the  happy  pair  were  soon  on  the 
road  to  Skinners  Pass. 

Jack  did  not,  I  regret  to  say,  confess  his 
blunder,  but  left  the  Reverend  Mr.  With- 
holder  to  remain  under  suspicion  of  having 
committed  an  unprovoked  assault  and  bat- 
tery. It  was  characteristic  of  Rocky  Canon, 
however,  that  this  suspicion,  far  from  injur- 
ing his  clerical  reputation,  incited  a  respect 
that  had  been  hitherto  denied  him.  A  man 
who  could  hit  out  straight  from  the  shoulder 


114   AN  ESMEBALDA  OF  ROCKY  CANON 

had,  in  the  language  of  the  critics,  "  suthin' 
in  him."  Oddly  enough,  the  crowd  that  had 
at  first  sympathized  with  Jack  now  began  to 
admit  provocations.  His  subsequent  silence, 
a  disposition  when  questioned  on  the  subject 
to  smile  inanely,  and,  later,  when  insidiously 
asked  if  he  had  ever  seen  Polly  dancing 
with  the  goat,  his  bursting  into  uproarious 
laughter  completely  turned  the  current  of 
opinion  against  him.  The  public  mind,  how- 
ever, soon  became  engrossed  by  a  more 
interesting  incident. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Withholder  had  organ- 
ized a  series  of  Biblical  tableaux  at  Skinners- 
town  for  the  benefit  of  his  church.  Illustra- 
tions were  to  be  given  of  "  Rebecca  at  the 
Well,"  "  The  Finding  of  Moses,"  "  Joseph 
and  his  Brethren ; "  but  Rocky  Canon  was 
more  particularly  excited  by  the  announce- 
ment that  Polly  Harkness  would  personate 
"Jephthah's  Daughter."  On  the  evening 
of  the  performance,  however,  it  was  found 
that  this  tableau  had  been  withdrawn  and 
another  substituted,  for  reasons  not  given. 
Rocky  Canon,  naturally  indignant  at  this 
omission  to  represent  native  talent,  indulged 
in  a  hundred  wild  surmises.  But  it  was 


AN  ESMERALDA   OF  EOCKY  CANON     115 

generally  believed  that  Jack  Filgee's  re- 
vengeful animosity  to  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Withholder  was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Jack, 
as  usual,  smiled  inanely,  but  nothing  was  to 
be  got  from  him.  It  was  not  until  a  few 
days  later,  when  another  incident  crowned 
the  climax  of  these  mysteries,  that  a  full 
disclosure  came  from  his  lips. 

One  morning  a  flaming  poster  was  dis- 
played at  Rocky  Canon,  with  a  charming 
picture  of  the  "  Sacramento  Pet "  in  the 
briefest  of  skirts,  disporting  with  a  tambour- 
ine before  a  goat  garlanded  with  flowers, 
who  bore,  however,  an  undoubted  likeness 
to  Billy.  The  text  in  enormous  letters,  and 
bristling  with  points  of  admiration,  stated 
that  the  "  Pet "  would  appear  as  "  Esme- 
ralda,"  assisted  by  a  performing  goat,  espe- 
cially trained  by  the  gifted  actress.  The 
goat  would  dance,  play  cards,  and  perform 
those  tricks  of  magic  familiar  to  the  readers 
of  Victor  Hugo's  beautiful  story  of  the 
"  Hunchback  of  Notre  Dame,"  and  finally 
knock  down  and  overthrow  the  designing 
seducer,  Captain  Phoebus.  The  marvelous 
spectacle  would  be  produced  under  the  pat- 
ronage of  the  Hon.  Colonel  Starbottle  and 
the  Mayor  of  Skinnerstown. 


116      AN  ESMEEALDA   OF  EOCKY  CANON 

As  all  Rocky  Canon  gathered  open- 
mouthed  around  the  poster,  Jack  demurely 
joined  the  group.  Every  eye  was  turned 
upon  him. 

"  It  don't  look  as  if  yer  Polly  was  in  this 
show,  any  more  than  she  was  in  the  tab- 
lows,"  said  one,  trying  to  conceal  his  curios- 
ity under  a  slight  sneer.  "  She  don't  seem 
to  be  doin'  any  dancin' !  " 

"  She  never  did  any  dancin',''  said  Jack, 
with  a  smile. 

"Never  did!  Then  what  was  all  these 
yarns  about  her  dancin'  up  at  the  pass  ?  " 

"  It  was  the  Sacramento  Pet  who  did  all 
the  dancin' ;  Polly  only  lent  the  goat.  Ye 
see,  the  Pet  kinder  took  a  shine  to  Billy 
arter  he  bowled  Starbottle  over  thet  day  at 
the  hotel,  and  she  thought  she  might  teach 
him  tricks.  So  she  did,  doing  all  her 
teachin'  and  stage-rehearsin'  up  there  at  the 
pass,  so  's  to  be  outer  sight,  and  keep  this 
thing  dark.  She  bribed  Polly  to  lend  her 
the  goat  and  keep  her  secret,  and  Polly 
never  let  on  a  word  to  anybody  but  me." 

"Then  it  was  the  Pet  that  Yuba  Bill 
saw  dancin'  from  the  coach?" 

"Yes." 


AN  ESMERALDA  OF  ROCKY  CANON     117 

"And  that  yer  artist  from  New  York 
painted  as  an  '  Imp  and  Satire '  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Then  that 's  how  Polly  did  n't  show  up 
in  them  tablows  at  Skinnerstown  ?  It  was 
Withholder  who  kinder  smelt  a  rat,  eh? 
and  found  out  it  was  only  a  theayter  gal  all 
along  that  did  the  dancin'  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,"  said  Jack,  with  affected 
hesitation,  "thet's  another  yarn.  I  don't 
know  mebbe  ez  I  oughter  tell  it.  Et  ain't 
got  anything  to  do  with  this  advertisement 
o'  the  Pet,  and  might  be  rough  on  old  man 
Withholder  !  Ye  must  n't  ask  me,  boys." 

But  there  was  that  in  his  eye,  and  above 
all  hi  this  lazy  procrastination  of  the  true 
humorist  when  he  is  approaching  his  climax, 
which  rendered  the  crowd  clamorous  and 
unappeasable.  They  would  have  the  story  ! 

Seeing  which,  Jack  leaned  back  against 
a  rock  with  great  gravity,  put  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  looked  discontentedly  at  the 
ground,  and  began :  "  You  see,  boys,  old 
Parson  Withholder  had  heard  all  these 
yarns  about  Polly  and  thet  trick-goat,  and 
he  kinder  reckoned  that  she  might  do  for 
some  one  of  his  tablows.  So  he  axed  her 


118      AN  ESMEEALDA   OF  ROCKY  CANON 

if  she  'd  mind  standin'  with  the  goat  and 
a  tambourine  for  Jephthah's  Daughter,  at 
about  the  time  when  old  Jeph  conies  home, 
sailin'  in  and  vowin'  he  '11  kill  the  first  thing 
he  sees,  —  jest  as  it  is  in  the  Bible  story. 
Well,  Polly  did  n't  like  to  say  it  was  n't  her 
that  performed  with  the  goat,  but  the  Pet, 
for  thet  would  give  the  Pet  dead  away ;  so 
Polly  agrees  to  come  thar  with  the  goat 
and  rehearse  the  tablow.  Well,  Polly's 
thar,  a  little  shy ;  and  Billy,  —  you  bet  he 's 
all  there,  and  ready  for  the  fun;  but  the 
darned  fool  who  plays  Jephthah  ain't  worth 
shucks,  and  when  he  comes  in  he  does 
nothin'  but  grin  at  Polly  and  seem  skeert 
at  the  goat.  This  makes  old  Withholder 
jest  wild,  and  at  last  he  goes  on  the  plat- 
form hisself  to  show  them  how  the  thing 
oughter  be  done.  So  he  comes  bustlin'  and 
prancin'  in,  and  ketches  sight  o'  Polly 
dancin'  in  with  the  goat  to  welcome  him ; 
and  then  he  clasps  his  hands  —  so  —  and 
drops  on  his  knees,  and  hangs  down  his 
head  —  so  —  and  sez, '  Me  chyld  !  me  vow ! 
Oh,  heavens ! '  But  jest  then  Billy  — 
who  's  gettin'  rather  tired  o'  all  this  foolish- 
ness —  kinder  slues  round  on  his  hind  legs, 


AN  ESMERALDA   OF  EOCKY  CANON     119 

and  ketches  sight  o'  the  parson ! "  Jack 
paused  a  moment,  and  thrusting  his  hands 
still  deeper  in  his  pockets,  said  lazily,  "  I 
don't  know  if  you  fellers  have  noticed  how 
much  old  Withholder  looks  like  Billy?" 

There  was  a  rapid  and  impatient  chorus 
of  "  Yes !  yes  !  "  and  "  Go  on ! " 

"Well,"  continued  Jack,  "when  Billy 
sees  Withholder  kneelin'  thar  with  his  head 
down,  he  gives  a  kind  o'  joyous  leap  and 
claps  his  hoofs  together,  ez  much  ez  to  say, 
4 1  'm  on  in  this  scene,'  drops  his  own  head, 
and  jest  lights  out  for  the  parson  !  " 

"  And  butts  him  clean  through  the  side 
scenes  into  the  street,"  interrupted  a  de- 
lighted auditor. 

But  Jack's  face  never  changed.  "Ye 
think  so  ? "  he  said  gravely.  "  But  thet  's 
jest  whar  ye  slip  up ;  and  thet 's  jest  whar 
Billy  slipped  up !  "  he  added  slowly.  "  Mebbe 
ye  Ve  noticed,  too,  thet  the  parson 's  built 
kinder  solid  about  the  head  and  shoulders. 
It  mought  hev  be'n  thet,  or  thet  Billy  did  n't 
get  a  fair  start,  but  thet  goat  went  down  on 
his  fore  legs  like  a  shot,  and  the  parson  gave 
one  heave,  and  jest  scooted  him  off  the  plat- 
form !  Then  the  parson  reckoned  thet  this 


120     AN  ESMEBALDA   OF  ROCKY  CANON 

yer  *  tablow '  had  better  be  left  out,  as  thar 
did  n't  seem  to  be  any  other  man  who  could 
play  Jephthah,  and  it  was  n't  dignified  for 
him  to  take  the  part.  But  the  parson 
allowed  thet  it  might  be  a  great  moral  lesson 
to  Billy ! " 

And  it  was,  for  from  that  moment  Billy 
never  attempted  to  butt  again.  He  per- 
formed with  great  docility  later  on  in  the 
Pet's  engagement  at  Skinnerstown ;  he 
played  a  distinguished  role  throughout  the 
provinces;  he  had  had  the  advantages  of 
Art  from  "  the  Pet,"  and  of  Simplicity 
from  Polly,  but  only  Rocky  Canon  knew 
that  his  real  education  had  come  with  his 
first  rehearsal  with  the  Reverend  Mr.  With- 
holder. 


DICK  SPINDLER'S  FAMILY 
CHRISTMAS 

THERE  was  surprise  and  sometimes  dis- 
appointment in  Rough  and  Ready,  when  it 
was  known  that  Dick  Spindler  intended  to 
give  a  "  family  "  Christmas  party  at  his 
own  house.  That  he  should  take  an  early 
opportunity  to  celebrate  his  good  fortune 
and  show  hospitality  was  only  expected  from 
the  man  who  had  just  made  a  handsome 
"  strike  "  on  his  claim ;  but  that  it  should 
assume  so  conservative,  old-fashioned,  and 
respectable  a  form  was  quite  unlooked-for 
by  Rough  and  Ready,  and  was  thought  by 
some  a  trifle  pretentious.  There  were  not 
half-a-dozen  families  in  Rough  and  Ready ; 
nobody  ever  knew  before  that  Spindler  had 
any  relations,  and  this  "  ringing  in "  of 
strangers  to  the  settlement  seemed  to  indi- 
cate at  least  a  lack  of  public  spirit.  "  He 
might,"  urged  one  of  his  critics,  "  hev  given 
the  boys,  —  that  had  worked  alongside  o' 
him  in  the  ditches  by  day,  and  slung  lies 


122     DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS 

with  him  around  the  camp-fire  by  night, 
—  he  might  hev  given  them  a  square  '  blow 
out,'  and  kep'  the  leavin's  for  his  old  Spin- 
dler  crew,  just  as  other  families  do.  Why, 
when  old  man  Scudder  had  his  house-raisin' 
last  year,  his  family  lived  for  a  week  on  what 
was  left  over,  arter  the  boys  had  waltzed 
through  the  house  that  night,  —  and  the 
Scudders  warn't  strangers,  either."  It  was 
also  evident  that  there  was  an  uneasy  feel- 
ing that  Spindler's  action  indicated  an  un- 
hallowed leaning  towards  the  minority  of 
respectability  and  exclusiveness,  and  a  deser- 
tion —  without  the  excuse  of  matrimony  — 
of  the  convivial  and  independent  bachelor 
majority  of  Rough  and  Ready. 

"  Ef  he  was  stuck  after  some  gal  and  was 
kinder  looking  ahead,  I  'd  hev  understood 
it,"  argued  another  critic. 

"  Don't  ye  be  too  sure  he  ain't,"  said 
Uncle  Jim  Starbuck  gloomily.  "  Ye  '11 
find  that  some  bkmed  woman  is  at  the  bot- 
tom of  this  yer  'family'  gathering.  That 
and  trouble  ez  almost  all  they  're  made 
for!" 

There  happened  to  be  some  truth  in  this 
dark  prophecy,  but  none  of  the  kind  that 


DICE  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS     123 

the  misogynist  supposed.  In  fact,  Spindler 
had  called  a  few  evenings  before  at  the 
house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Saltover,  and  Mrs. 
Saltover,  having  one  of  her  "  Saleratus 
headaches,"  had  turned  hizn  over  to  her 
widow  sister,  Mrs.  Huldy  Price,  who  obedi- 
ently bestowed  upon  him  that  practical  and 
critical  attention  which  she  divided  with 
the  stocking  she  was  darning.  She  was  a 
woman  of  thirty-five,  of  singular  nerve  and 
practical  wisdom,  who  had  once  smuggled 
her  wounded  husband  home  from  a  border 
affray,  calmly  made  coffee  for  his  deceived 
pursuers  while  he  lay  hidden  in  the  loft, 
walked  four  miles  for  that  medical  assist- 
ance which  arrived  too  late  to  save  him, 
buried  him  secretly  in  his  own  "  quarter 
section,"  with  only  one  other  witness  and 
mourner,  and  so  saved  her  position  and  pro- 
perty in  that  wild  community,  who  believed 
he  had  fled.  There  was  very  little  of  this 
experience  to  be  traced  in  her  round,  fresh- 
colored  brunette  cheek,  her  calm  black  eyes, 
set  in  a  prickly  hedge  of  stiff  lashes,  her 
plump  figure,  or  her  frank,  courageous 
laugh.  The  latter  appeared  as  a  smile 
when  she  welcomed  Mr.  Spindler.  "  She 


124     DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS 

hadn't  seen  him  for  a  coon's  age,"  but 
"reckoned  he  was  busy  fixin'  up  his  new 
house." 

"  Well,  yes,"  said  Spindler,  with  a  slight 
hesitation,  "  ye  see,  I  'm  reckonin1  to  hev  a 
kinder  Christmas  gatherin'  of  my"  —  he 
was  about  to  say  "  folks,"  but  dismissed  it 
for  "  relations,"  and  finally  settled  upon 
"  relatives "  as  being  more  correct  in  a 
preacher's  house. 

Mrs.  Price  thought  it  a  very  good  idea. 
Christmas  was  the  natural  season  for  the 
family  to  gather  to  "  see  who 's  here  and 
who  's  there,  who 's  gettin'  on  and  who  is  n't, 
and  who  's  dead  and  buried.  It  was  lucky 
for  them  who  were  so  placed  that  they  could 
do  so  and  be  joyful."  Her  invincible  phi- 
losophy probably  carried  her  past  any  dan- 
gerous recollections  of  the  lonely  grave  in 
Kansas,  and  holding  up  the  stocking  to  the 
light,  she  glanced  cheerfully  along  its  level 
to  Mr.  Spindler 's  embarrassed  face  by  the 
fire. 

"  Well,  I  can't  say  much  ez  to  that,"  re- 
sponded Spindler,  still  awkwardly,  "  for  you 
see  I  don't  know  much  about  it  anyway." 

"How   long    sincte   you've  seen  'em?" 


DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS     125 

asked  Mrs.  Price,  apparently  addressing 
herself  to  the  stocking. 

Spindler  gave  a  weak  laugh.  "  Well, 
you  see,  ef  it  conies  to  that,  I  Ve  never  seen 
'em!" 

Mrs.  Price  put  the  stocking  in  her  lap 
and  opened  her  direct  eyes  on  Spindler. 
"  Never  seen  'em  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Then, 
they  're  not  near  relations  ?  " 

"  There  are  three  cousins,"  said  Spindler, 
checking  them  off  on  his  fingers,  "  a  half- 
uncle,  a  kind  of  brother-in-law,  —  that  is, 
the  brother  of  my  sister-in-law's  second  hus- 
band, —  and  a  niece.  That 's  six." 

"  But  if  you  've  not  seen  them,  I  suppose 
they  've  corresponded  with  you  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Price. 

"  They  've  nearly  all  of  'em  written  to  me 
for  money,  seeing  my  name  in  the  paper  ez 
hevin'  made  a  strike,"  returned  Spindler 
simply ;  "  and  hevin'  sent  it,  I  jest  know 
their  addresses." 

«  Oh !  "  said  Mrs.  Price,  returning  to  the 
stocking. 

Something  in  the  tone  of  her  ejacula- 
tion increased  Spindler's  embarrassment,  but 
it  also  made  him  desperate.  "You  see, 


126      DICK  SPINDLER'S   CHRISTMAS 

Mrs.  Price,"  he  blurted  out,  "  I  oughter  tell 
ye  that  I  reckon  they  are  the  folks  that 
'hevn't  got  on,'  don't  you  see,  and  so  it 
seemed  only  the  square  thing  for  me,  ez  had 
'  got  on,'  to  give  them  a  sort  o'  Christmas 
festival.  Suthin',  don't  ye  know,  like  what 
your  brother-in-law  was  sayin'  last  Sunday 
in  the  pulpit  about  this  yer  peace  and 
goodwill  'twixt  man  and  man." 

Mrs.  Price  looked  again  at  the  man 
before  her.  His  sallow,  perplexed  face  ex- 
hibited some  doubt,  yet  a  certain  determina- 
tion, regarding  the  prospect  the  quotation 
had  opened  to  him.  "  A  very  good  idea, 
Mr.  Spindler,  and  one  that  does  you  great 
credit,"  she  said  gravely. 

"  I  'm  mighty  glad  to  hear  you  say  so, 
Mrs.  Price,"  he  said,  with  an  accent  of 
great  relief,  "  for  I  reckoned  to  ask  you  a 
great  favor !  You  see,"  he  fell  into  his 
former  hesitation,  "  that  is  —  the  fact  is  — 
that  this  sort  o'  thing  is  rather  suddent  to 
me,  —  a  little  outer  my  line,  don't  you  see, 
and  I  was  goin'  to  ask  ye  ef  you  'd  mind 
takin'  the  hull  thing  in  hand  and  runnin' 
it  for  me." 

"  Kunning  it  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Price, 


DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS     127 

with  a  quick  eye-shot  from  under  the  edge 
of  her  lashes.  "  Man  alive  !  What  are  you 
thinking  of  ?  " 

"  Bossin'  the  whole  job  for  me,"  hurried 
on  Spindler,  with  nervous  desperation. 
"  Gettin'  together  all  the  things  and  makin' 
ready  for  'em,  —  orderin'  in  everythin'  that 's 
wanted,  and  fixin'  up  the  rooms,  —  I  kin 
step  out  while  you  're  doin'  it,  —  and  then 
helpin'  me  receivin'  'em,  and  sittin'  at  the 
head  o'  the  table,  you  know,  —  like  ez  ef 
you  was  the  mistress." 

"  But,"  said  Mrs.  Price,  with  her  frank 
laugh,  "  that 's  the  duty  of  one  of  your  re- 
lations, —  your  niece,  for  instance,  —  or 
cousin,  if  one  of  them  is  a  woman." 

"But,"  persisted  Spindler,  "you  see, 
they  're  strangers  to  me ;  I  don't  know  'em, 
and  I  do  you.  You  'd  make  it  easy  for  'em, 
—  and  for  me,  —  don't  you  see  ?  Kinder 
introduce  'em,  —  don't  you  know  ?  A  wo- 
man of  your  gin'ral  experience  would  smooth 
down  all  them  little  difficulties,"  continued 
Spindler,  with  a  vague  recollection  of  the 
Kansas  story,  "  and  put  everybody  on  vel- 
vet. Don't  say  '  No,'  Mrs.  Price !  I  'm 
just  kalkilatin'  on  you." 


128     DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS 

Sincerity  and  persistency  in  a  man  goes 
a  great  way  with  even  the  best  of  women. 
Mrs.  Price,  who  had  at  first  received  Spin- 
dler's  request  as  an  amusing  originality,  now 
began  to  incline  secretly  towards  it.  And, 
of  course,  began  to  suggest  objections. 

"  I  'm  afraid  it  won't  do,"  she  said 
thoughtfully,  awakening  to  the  fact  that  it 
would  do  and  could  be  done.  "You  see, 
I  've  promised  to  spend  Christmas  at  Sacra- 
mento with  my  nieces  from  Baltimore.  And 
then  there  's  Mrs.  Saltover  and  my  sister  to 
consult." 

But  here  Spindler's  simple  face  showed 
such  signs  of  distress  that  the  widow  de- 
clared she  would  "  think  it  over,"  —  a  process 
which  the  sanguine  Spindler  seemed  to  con- 
sider so  nearly  akin  to  talking  it  over  that 
Mrs.  Price  began  to  believe  it  herself,  as  he 
hopefully  departed. 

She  "  thought  it  over  "  sufficiently  to  go 
to  Sacramento  and  excuse  herself  to  her 
nieces.  But  here  she  permitted  herself  to 
"  talk  it  over,"  to  the  infinite  delight  of 
those  Baltimore  girls,  who  thought  this  ex- 
travaganza of  Spindler's  "  so  Californian 
and  eccentric !  "  So  that  it  was  not  strange 


DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS     129 

that  presently  the  news  came  back  to  Rough 
and  Ready,  and  his  old  associates  learned  for 
the  first  time  that  he  had  never  seen  his 
relatives,  and  that  they  would  be  doubly 
strangers.  This  did  not  increase  his  popu- 
larity ;  neither,  I  grieve  to  say,  did  the  in- 
telligence that  his  relatives  were  probably 
poor,  and  that  the  Reverend  Mr.  Saltover 
had  approved  of  his  course,  and  had  likened 
it  to  the  rich  man's  feast,  to  which  the  halt 
and  blind  were  invited.  Indeed,  the  allusion 
was  supposed  to  add  hypocrisy  and  a  bid  for 
popularity  to  Spindler's  defection,  for  it  was 
argued  that  he  might  have  feasted  "  Wall- 
eyed Joe  "  or  "  Tangle-foot  Billy,"  —  who 
had  once  been  "  chawed "  by  a  bear  while 
prospecting,  —  if  he  had  been  sincere.  How- 
beit,  Spindler's  faith  was  oblivious  to  these 
criticisms,  in  his  joy  at  Mr.  Saltover's  adhe- 
sion to  his  plans  and  the  loan  of  Mrs.  Price 
as  a  hostess.  In  fact,  he  proposed  to  her 
that  the  invitation  should  also  convey  that 
information  in  the  expression,  "  by  the  kind 
permission  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Saltover,"  as  a 
guarantee  of  good  faith,  but  the  widow 
would  have  none  of  it.  The  invitations 
were  duly  written  and  dispatched. 


130     DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHBISTMAS 

"  Suppose,"  suggested  Spindler,  with  a 
sudden  lugubrious  apprehension,  —  "  sup- 
pose they  should  n't  come  ?  " 

"Have  nofear»of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Price, 
with  a  frank  laugh. 

"  Or  ef  they  was  dead,"  continued  Spin- 
dler. 

"  They  could  n't  all  be  dead,"  said  the 
widow  cheerfully. 

"  I  've  written  to  another  cousin  by  mar- 
riage," said  Spindler  dubiously,  "  in  case  of 
accident ;  I  did  n't  think  of  him  before, 
because  he  was  rich." 

"  And  have  you  ever  seen  him  either,  Mr. 
Spindler?  "  asked  the  widow,  with  a  slight 
mischievousness. 

"  Lordy !  No !  "  he  responded,  with  un- 
affected concern. 

Only  one  mistake  was  made  by  Mrs. 
Price  in  her  arrangements  for  the  party. 
She  had  noticed  what  the  simple-minded 
Spindler  could  never  have  conceived,  —  the 
feeling  towards  him  held  by  his  old  asso- 
ciates, and  had  tactfully  suggested  that  a 
general  invitation  should  be  extended  to 
them  in  the  evening. 

"  You  can  have  refreshments,  you  know, 


DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS     131 

too,  after  the  dinner,  and  games  and.  mu- 
sic." 

"  But,"  said  the  unsophisticated  host, 
"  won't  the  boys  think  I  'm  playing  it  rather 
low  down  on  them,  so  to  speak,  givin'  'em 
a  kind  o'  second  table,  as  ef  it  was  the  tail- 
ings after  a  strike  ?  " 

"Nonsense,"  said  Mrs.  Price,  with  de- 
cision. "  It 's  quite  fashionable  in  San 
Francisco,  and  just  the  thing  to  do." 

To  this  decision  Spindler,  in  his  blind 
faith  in  the  widow's  management,  weakly 
yielded.  An  announcement  in  the  "  Weekly 
Banner "  that,  "  On  Christmas  evening 
Richard  Spindler,  Esq.,  proposed  to  enter- 
tain his  friends  and  fellow  citizens  at  an 
'  at  home,'  in  his  own  residence,"  not  only 
widened  the  breach  between  him  and  the 
"  boys,"  but  awakened  an  active  resentment 
that  only  waited  for  an  outlet.  It  was 
understood  that  they  were  all  coming;  but 
that  they  should  have  "  some  fun  out  of  it  " 
which  might  not  coincide  with  Spindler's 
nor  his  relatives'  sense  of  humor  seemed  a 
foregone  conclusion. 

Unfortunately,  too,  subsequent  events  lent 
themselves  to  this  irony  of  the  situation. 


132     DICK  SPINDLEKS  CHRISTMAS 

A  few  mornings  after  the  invitations  were 
dispatched,  Spindler,  at  one  of  his  daily  con- 
ferences with  Mrs.  Price,  took  a  newspaper 
from  his  pocket.  "  It  seems,"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  her  with  an  embarrassed  gravity, 
"  that  we  will  have  to  take  one  o'  them 
names  off  that  list,  —  the  name  o'  Sam 
Spindler,  —  and  kalkilate  upon  only  six 
relations  coming." 

"  Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Price  interestedly,  "  then 
you  have  had  an  answer,  and  he  has  de- 
clined ?  " 

"  Not  that  exactly,"  said  Spindler  slowly, 
"but  from  remarks  in  this  yer  paper,  he 
was  hung  last  week  by  the  Vigilance  Com- 
mittee of  Yolo." 

Mrs.  Price  opened  her  eyes  on  Spindler's 
face  as  she  took  the  paper  from  his  hand. 
"  But,"  she  said  quickly,  "  this  may  be  all  a 
mistake,  some  other  Spindler!  You  know, 
you  say  you  've  never  seen  them !  " 

"  I  reckon  it 's  no  mistake,"  said  Spindler, 
with  patient  gravity,  "  for  the  Committee 
sent  me  back  my  invitation,  with  the  kinder 
disparagin'  remark  that  they've  'sent  him 
where  it  ain't  bin  the  habit  to  keep  Christ- 
mas ! ' " 


DICK  SPINDLE&S  CHRISTMAS     133 

Mrs.  Price  gasped,  but  a  glance  at  Spin- 
dler's  patient,  wistful,  inquiring  eyes  brought 
back  her  old  courage.  "  Well,"  she  said 
cheerfully,  "  perhaps  it 's  just  as  well  he 
didn't  come." 

"  Are  ye  sure  o'  that,  Mrs.  Price  ?  "  said 
Spindler,  with  a  slightly  troubled  expres- 
sion. "  Seems  to  me,  now,  that  he  was  the 
sort  as  might  hev  bin  gathered  in  at  the 
feast,  and  kinder  snatched  like  a  brand  from 
the  burniii',  accordin'  to  Scripter.  But  ye 
know  best." 

"Mr.  Spindler,"  said  Mrs.  Price  sud- 
denly, with  a  slight  snap  in  her  black  eyes, 
"  are  your  —  are  the  others  like  this  ?  Or  " 
—  here  her  eyes  softened  again,  and  her 
laugh  returned,  albeit  slightly  hysterical 
—  "  is  this  kind  of  thing  likely  to  happen 
again  ?  " 

"  I  think  we  're  pretty  sartin  o'  hevin' 
six  to  dinner,"  returned  Spindler  simply. 
Then,  as  if  noticing  some  other  significance 
in  her  speech,  he  added  wistfully,  "  But  you 
won't  go  back  on  me,  Mrs.  Price,  ef  things 
ain't  pannin'  out  exackly  as  I  reckoned? 
You  see,  I  never  really  knew  these  ycr  re- 
lations." 


134      DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS 

He  was  so  obviously  sincere  in  his  intent, 
and,  above  all,  seemed  to  place  such  a 
pathetic  reliance  on  her  judgment,  that  she 
hesitated  to  let  him  know  the  shock  his 
revelation  had  given  her.  And  what  might 
his  other  relations  prove  to  be?  Good 
Lord  !  Yet,  oddly  enough,  she  was  so  pre- 
possessed by  him,  and  so  fascinated  by  his 
very  Quixotism,  that  it  was  perhaps  for 
these  complex  reasons  that  she  said  a  little 
stiffly :  — 

"  One  of  these  cousins,  I  see,  is  a  lady, 
and  then  there  is  your  niece.  Do  you  know 
anything  about  them,  Mr.  Spindler  ?  " 

His  face  grew  serious.  "  No  more  than 
I  know  of  the  others,"  he  said  apologetically. 
After  a  moment's  hesitation  he  went  on : 
"  Now  you  speak  of  it,  it  seems  to  me  I  've 
heard  that  my  niece  was  di-vorced.  But," 
he  added,  brightening  up,  "  I  've  heard  that 
she  was  popular." 

Mrs.  Price  gave  a  short  laugh,  and  was 
silent  for  a  few  minutes.  Then  this  sublime 
little  woman  looked  up  at  him.  What  he 
might  have  seen  in  her  eyes  was  more  than 
he  expected,  or,  I  fear,  deserved.  "  Cheer 
up,  Mr.  Spindler,"  she  said  manfully.  "  I  '11 


DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS     135 

see  you  through  this  thing,  don't  you  mind ! 
But  don't  you  say  anything  about  —  about 
—  this  Vigilance  Committee  business  to  any- 
body. Nor  about  your  niece  —  it  was  your 
niece,  was  n't  it  ?  —  being  divorced.  Char- 
ley (the  late  Mr.  Price)  had  a  queer  sort  of 
sister,  who  —  but  that 's  neither  here  nor 
there !  And  your  niece  may  n't  come,  you 
know ;  or  if  she  does,  you  ain't  bound  to 
bring  her  out  to  the  general  company." 

At  parting,  Spindler,  in  sheer  grateful- 
ness, pressed  her  hand,  and  lingered  so  long 
over  it  that  a  little  color  sprang  into  the  wid- 
ow's brown  cheek.  Perhaps  a  fresh  courage 
sprang  into  her  heart,  too,  for  she  went  to 
Sacramento  the  next  day,  previously  enjoin- 
ing Spindler  on  no  account  to  show  any 
answers  he  might  receive.  At  Sacramento 
her  nieces  flew  to  her  with  confidences. 

"  We  so  wanted  to  see  you,  Aunt  Huldy, 
for  we've  heard  something  so  delightful 
about  your  funny  Christmas  Party !  "  Mrs. 
Price's  heart  sank,  but  her  eyes  snapped. 
"  Only  think  of  it !  One  of  Mr.  Spindler's 
long-lost  relatives  —  a  Mr.  Wragg  —  lives 
in  this  hotel,  and  papa  knows  him.  He 's  a 
sort  of  half -uncle,  I  believe,  and  he 's  just 


136     DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHEISTMAS 

furious  that  Spindler  should  have  invited 
him.  He  showed  papa  the  letter;  said  it 
was  the  greatest  piece  of  insolence  in  the 
world ;  that  Spindler  was  an  ostentatious 
fool,  who  had  made  a  little  money  and 
wanted  to  use  him  to  get  into  society ;  and 
the  fun  of  the  whole  thing  was  that  this 
half-uncle  and  whole  brute  is  himself  a  par- 
venu, —  a  vulgar,  ostentatious  creature,  who 
was  only  a  "  — 

"  Never  mind  what  he  was,  Kate,"  inter- 
rupted Mrs.  Price  hastily.  "  I  call  his  con- 
duct a  shame." 

"  So  do  we,"  said  both  girls  eagerly. 
After  a  pause  Kate  clasped  her  knees  with 
her  locked  fingers,  and  rocking  backwards 
and  forwards,  said,  "  Milly  and  I  have  got 
an  idea,  and  don't  you  say  'No'  to  it. 
We  've  had  it  ever  since  that  brute  talked 
in  that  way.  Now,  through  him,  we  know 
more  about  this  Mr.  Spindler' s  family  con- 
nections than  you  do ;  and  we  know  all  the 
trouble  you  and  he'll  have  in  getting  up 
this  party.  You  understand?  Now,  we 
first  want  to  know  what  Spindler 's  like. 
Is  he  a  savage,  bearded  creature,  like  the 
miners  we  saw  on  the  boat  ?  " 


DICK  SPINDLEE'S  CHRISTMAS     137 

Mrs.  Price  said  that,  on  the  contrary,  he 
was  very  gentle,  soft-spoken,  and  rather 
good-looking. 

"  Young  or  old  ?  " 

"  Young,  —  in  fact,  a  mere  boy,  as  you 
may  judge  from  his  actions,"  returned  Mrs. 
Price,  with  a  suggestive  matronly  air. 

Kate  here  put  up  a  long-handled  eyeglass 
to  her  fine  gray  eyes,  fitted  it  ostentatiously 
over  her  aquiline  nose,  and  then  said,  in  a 
voice  of  simulated  horror,  "  Aunt  Huldy,  — 
this  revelation  is  shocking !  " 

Mrs.  Price  laughed  her  usual  frank 
laugh,  albeit  her  brown  cheek  took  upon  it 
a  faint  tint  of  Indian  red.  "  If  that 's  the 
wonderful  idea  you  girls  have  got,  I  don't 
see  how  it 's  going  to  help  matters,"  she 
said  dryly. 

"  No,  that 's  not  it !  We  really  have  an 
idea.  Now  look  here." 

Mrs.  Price  "  looked  here."  This  process 
seemed  to  the  superficial  observer  to  be 
merely  submitting  her  waist  and  shoulders 
to  the  arms  of  her  nieces,  and  her  ears  to 
their  confidential  and  coaxing  voices. 

Twice  she  said  "  it  could  n't  be  thought 
of,"  and  "  it  was  impossible ; "  once  ad- 


138     DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHEISTMAS 

dressed  Kate  as  "  You  limb ! "  and  finally 
said  that  she  "  would  n't  promise,  but  might 
write!" 


It  was  two  days  before  Christmas.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  air,  sky,  or  landscape  of 
that  Sierran  slope  to  suggest  the  season  to 
the  Eastern  stranger.  A  soft  rain  had  been 
dropping  for  a  week  on  laurel,  pine,  and 
buckeye,  and  the  blades  of  springing  grasses 
and  shyly  opening  flowers.  Sedate  and  si- 
lent hillsides  that  had  grown  dumb  and 
parched  towards  the  end  of  the  dry  season 
became  gently  articulate  again ;  there  were 
murmurs  in  hushed  and  forgotten  canons, 
the  leap  and  laugh  of  water  among  the  dry 
bones  of  dusty  creeks,  and  the  full  song  of 
the  larger  forks  and  rivers.  Southwest 
winds  brought  the  warm  odor  of  the  pine 
sap  swelling  in  the  forest,  or  the  faint,  far- 
off  spice  of  wild  mustard  springing  in  the 
lower  valleys.  But,  as  if  by  some  irony  of 
Nature,  this  gentle  invasion  of  spring  in 
the  wild  wood  brought  only  disturbance  and 
discomfort  to  the  haunts  and  works  of  man. 
The  ditches  were  overflowed,  the  fords  of 
the  Fork  impassable,  the  sluicing  adrift,  and 


DICK  SPINDLEWS  CHEISTMAS     139 

the  trails  and  wagon  roads  to  Rough  and 
Ready  knee-deep  in  mud.  The  stage-coach 
from  Sacramento,  entering  the  settlement 
by  the  mountain  highway,  its  wheels  and 
panels  clogged  and  crusted  with  an  unctuous 
pigment  like  mud  and  blood,  passed  out  of 
it  through  the  overflowed  and  dangerous 
ford,  and  emerged  in  spotless  purity,  leaving 
its  stains  behind  with  Rough  and  Ready. 
A  week  of  enforced  idleness  on  the  river 
"  Bar "  had  driven  the  miners  to  the  more 
comfortable  recreation  of  the  saloon  bar, 
its  mirrors,  its  florid  paintings,  its  arm- 
chairs, and  its  stove.  The  steam  of  their 
wet  boots  and  the  smoke  of  their  pipes  hung 
over  the  latter  like  the  sacrificial  incense 
from  an  altar.  But  the  attitude  of  the 
men  was  more  critical  and  censorious  than 
contented,  and  showed  little  of  the  gentle- 
ness of  the  weather  or  season. 

"  Did  you  hear  if  the  stage  brought  down 
any  more  relations  of  Spindler's  ?  " 

The  barkeeper,  to  whom  this  question 
was  addressed,  shifted  his  lounging  position 
against  the  bar  and  said,  "  I  reckon  not,  ez 
far  ez  I  know." 

"  And  that  old  bloat  of  a  second  cousin  — 


140     DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS 

that  crimson  beak  —  what  kem  down  yester- 
day,—  he  ain't  bin  hangin'  round  here  to- 
day for  his  reg'lar  pizon  ?  " 

"No,"  said  the  barkeeper  thoughtfully, 
"I  reckon  Spindler's  got  him  locked  up, 
and  is  settin'  on  him  to  keep  him  sober  till 
after  Christmas,  and  prevent  you  boys  get- 
tin'  at  him." 

"  He  '11  have  the  jimjams  before  that," 
returned  the  first  speaker  ;  "  and  how  about 
that  dead  beat  of  a  half -nephew  who  bor- 
rowed twenty  dollars  of  Yuba  Bill  on  the 
way  down,  and  then  wanted  to  get  off  at 
Shootersville,  but  Bill  wouldn't  let  him, 
and  scooted  him  down  to  Spindler's  and 
collected  the  money  from  Spindler  himself 
afore  he  'd  give  him  up  ?  " 

"  He 's  up  thar  with  the  rest  of  the 
menagerie,"  said  the  barkeeper,  "  but  I 
reckon  that  Mrs.  Price  hez  bin  feedin'  him 
up.  And  ye  know  the  old  woman  —  that 
fifty-fifth  cousin  by  marriage  —  whom  Joe 
Chandler  swears  he  remembers  ez  an  old 
cook  for  a  Chinese  restaurant  in  Stockton, 
—  darn  my  skin  ef  that  Mrs.  Price  has  n't 
rigged  her  out  in  some  fancy  duds  of  her 
own,  and  made  her  look  quite  decent." 


DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS      141 

A  deep  groan  here  broke  from  Uncle  Jim 
Starbuck. 

"  Did  n't  I  tell  ye  ?  "  he  said,  turning  ap- 
pealingly  to  the  others.  "  It 's  that  darned 
widow  that 's  at  the  bottom  of  it  all !  She 
first  put  Spindler  up  to  givin'  the  party, 
and  now,  darn  my  skin,  ef  she  ain't  goin' 
to  fix  up  these  ragamuffins  and  drill  'em  so 
we  can't  get  any  fun  outer  'em  after  all! 
And  it 's  bein'  a  woman  that 's  bossin'  the 
job,  and  not  Spindler,  we  've  got  to  draw 
things  mighty  fine  and  not  cut  up  too  rough, 
or  some  of  the  boys  will  kick." 

"  You  bet,"  said  a  surly  but  decided  voice 
in  the  crowd. 

"  And,"  said  another  voice,  "  Mrs.  Price 
did  n't  live  in  '  Bleeding  Kansas '  for  no- 
thing." 

"  Wot 's  the  programme  you  've  settled 
on,  Uncle  Jim?  "  said  the  barkeeper  lightly, 
to  check  what  seemed  to  promise  a  danger- 
ous discussion. 

"  Well,"  said  Starbuck,  "  we  kalkilate  to 
gather  early  Christmas  night  in  Hooper's 
Hollow  and  rig  ourselves  up  Injun  fash- 
ion, and  then  start  for  Spindler's  with  pitch- 
pine  torches,  and  have  a  '  torchlight  dance ' 


142     DICK  SPINDLEB'S   CHRISTMAS 

around  the  house ;  them  who  does  the  dan- 
cin'  and  yellin'  outside  takin'  their  turn 
at  goin'  in  and  hevin'  refreshment.  Jake 
Cooledge,  of  Boston,  sez  if  anybody  objects 
to  it,  we  've  only  got  to  say  we  're  « Mum- 
mers of  the  Olden  Times,'  sabe  ?  Then, 
later,  we'll  have  'Them  Sabbath  Evening 
Bells '  performed  on  prospectin'  pans  by  the 
band.  Then,  at  the  finish,  Jake  Cooledge 
is  goin'  to  give  one  of  his  surkastic  speeches, 
—  kinder  welcomin'  Spindler's  family  to 
the  Free  Openin'  o'  Spindler's  Almshouse 
and  Reformatory."  He  paused,  possibly  for 
that  approbation  which,  however,  did  not 
seem  to  come  spontaneously.  "  It  ain't 
much,"  he  added  apologetically,  "  for  we  're 
hampered  by  women ;  but  we  '11  add  to  the 
programme  ez  we  see  how  things  pan  out. 
Ye  see,  from  what  we  can  hear,  all  of  Spin- 
dler's relations  ain't  on  hand  yet !  We  've 
got  to  wait,  like  in  elekshun  times,  for  '  re- 
turns from  the  back  counties.'  Hello ! 
What's  that?" 

It  was  the  swish  and  splutter  of  hoofs  on 
the  road  before  the  door.  The  Sacramento 
coach  !  In  an  instant  every  man  was  ex- 
pectant, and  Starbuck  darted  outside  on  the 


DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS     143 

platform.  Then  there  was  the  usual  greet- 
ing and  bustle,  the  hurried  ingress  of  thirsty 
passengers  into  the  saloon,  and  a  pause. 
Uncle  Jim  returned,  excitedly  and  pantingly. 
"  Look  yer,  boys !  Ef  this  ain't  the  rich- 
est thing  out !  They  say  there  's  two  more 
relations  o'  Spindler's  on  the  coach,  come 
down  as  express  freight,  consigned,  —  d'  ye 
hear  ?  —  consigned  to  Spindler !  " 

"  Stiffs,  in  coffins  ? "  suggested  an  eager 
voice. 

"  I  did  n't  get  to  hear  more.  But  here 
they  are." 

There  was  the  sudden  irruption  of  a  laugh- 
ing, curious  crowd  into  the  bar-room,  led  by 
Yuba  Bill,  the  driver.  Then  the  crowd 
parted,  and  out  of  their  midst  stepped  two 
children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  the  oldest  ap- 
parently of  not  more  than  six  years,  hold- 
ing each  other's  hands.  They  were  coarsely 
yet  cleanly  dressed,  and  with  a  certain  uni- 
form precision  that  suggested  formal  charity. 
But  more  remarkable  than  all,  around  the 
neck  of  each  was  a  little  steel  chain,  from 
which  depended  the  regular  check  and  label 
of  the  powerful  Express  Company,  Wells, 
Fargo  &  Co.,  and  the  words:  "To  Rich- 


144      DICK  SPINDLEWS  CHRISTMAS 

ard  Spindler."  "  Fragile."  "  With  great 
care."  "  Collect  on  delivery."  Occasionally 
their  little  hands  went  up  automatically  and 
touched  their  labels,  as  if  to  show  them. 
They  surveyed  the  crowd,  the  floor,  the 
gilded  bar,  and  Yuba  Bill  without  fear  and 
without  wonder.  There  was  a  pathetic  sug- 
gestion that  they  were  accustomed  to  this 
observation. 

"  Now,  Bobby,"  said  Yuba  Bill,  leaning 
back  against  the  bar,  with  an  air  half- 
paternal,  half -managerial,  "  tell  these  gents 
how  you  came  here." 

'"By   Wellth,  Fargoth  Expreth,"  lisped 
Bobby. 

"  Whar  from  ?  " 

"Wed  Hill,  Owegon." 

"  Red  Hill,  Oregon  ?  Why,  it 's  a  thou- 
sand miles  from  here,"  said  a  bystander. 

"  I  reckon,"  said  Yuba  Bill  coolly,  "  they 
kem  by  stage  to  Portland,  by  steamer  to 
'Frisco,  steamer  again  to  Stockton,  and  then 
by  stage  over  the  whole  line.  Allers  by 
Wells,  Fargo  &  Co.'s  Express,  from  agent 
to  agent,  and  from  messenger  to  messenger. 
Fact!  They  ain't  bin  tetched  or  handled 
by  any  one  but  the  Kempany's  agents  ;  they 


DICK  SPINDLER'S   CHRISTMAS      145 

ain't  had  a  line  or  direction  except  them 
checks  around  their  necks  !  And  they  've 
wanted  for  no  thin'  else.  Why,  I  've  carried 
heaps  o'  treasure  before,  gentlemen,  and  once 
a  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  greenbacks, 
but  I  never  carried  anythin'  that  was  watched 
and  guarded  as  them  kids !  Why,  the 
division  inspector  at  Stockton  wanted  to  go 
with  'em  over  the  line  ;  but  Jim  Bracy,  the 
messenger,  said  he  'd  call  it  a  reflection  on 
himself  and  resign,  ef  they  did  n't  give  'em 
to  him  with  the  other  packages  !  Ye  had  a 
pretty  good  time,  Bobby,  did  n't  ye  ?  Plenty 
to  eat  and  drink,  eh  ?  " 

The  two  children  laughed  a  little  weak 
laugh,  turned  each  other  bashfully  around, 
and  then  looked  up  shyly  at  Yuba  Bill  and 
said,  "  Yeth." 

"  Do  you  know  where  you  are  goin'  ? " 
asked  Starbuck,  in  a  constrained  voice. 

It  was  the  little  girl  who  answered  quickly 
and  eagerly :  — 

"  Yes,  to  Krissmass  and  Sandy  Glaus." 

"  To  what  ?  "  asked  Starbuck. 

Here  the  boy  interposed  with  a  superior 
air:  — 

"  Thee  meanth  Couthin  Dick.  He  'th  got 
Krithmath." 


146      DICK  SPINDLEB'S   CHRISTMAS 

"  Where  's  your  mother?  " 

"Dead." 

"  And  your  father  ?  " 

"  In  orthpittal." 

There  was  a  laugh  somewhere  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  crowd.  Every  one  faced 
angrily  in  that  direction,  but  the  laugher 
had  disappeared.  Yuba  Bill,  however,  sent 
his  voice  after  him.  "  Yes,  in  hospital ! 
Funny,  ain't  it  ?  —  amoosin'  place !  Try  it. 
Step  over  here,  and  in  five  minutes,  by  the  liv- 
ing Hoky,  I  '11  qualify  you  for  admission,  and 
not  charge  you  a  cent ! "  He  stopped,  gave 
a  sweeping  glance  of  dissatisfaction  around 
him,  and  then,  leaning  back  against  the  bar, 
beckoned  to  some  one  near  the  door,  and 
said  in  a  disgusted  tone,  "  You  tell  these 
galoots  how  it  happened,  Bracy.  They  make 
me  sick ! " 

Thus  appealed  to,  Bracy,  the  express 
messenger,  stepped  forward  in  Yuba  Bill's 
place. 

"  It 's  nothing  particular,  gentlemen,"  he 
said,  with  a  laugh,  "  only  it  seems  that  some 
man  called  Spindler,  who  lives  about  here, 
sent  an  invitation  to  the  father  of  these 
children  to  bring  his  family  to  a  Christmas 


DICK  SPINDLE&S  CHBISTMAS     147 

party.  It  was  n't  a  bad  sort  of  thing  for 
Spindler  to  do,  considering  that  they  were 
his  poor  relations,  though  they  did  n't  know 
him  from  Adam,  —  was  it  ?  "  He  paused  ; 
several  of  the  bystanders  cleared  their 
throats,  but  said  nothing.  "  At  least,"  re- 
sumed Bracy,  "  that 's  what  the  boys  up  at 
Red  Hill,  Oregon,  thought,  when  they  heard 
of  it.  Well,  as  the  father  was  in  hospital 
with  a  broken  leg,  and  the  mother  only  a 
few  weeks  dead,  the  boys  thought  it  mighty 
rough  on  these  poor  kids  if  they  were  done 
out  of  their  fun  because  they  had  no  one  to 
bring  them.  The  boys  could  n't  afford  to  go 
themselves,  but  they  got  a  little  money  to- 
gether, and  then  got  the  idea  of  sendin'  'em 
by  express.  Our  agent  at  Red  Hill  tumbled 
to  the  idea  at  once ;  but  he  would  n't  take 
any  money  in  advance,  and  said  he  would 
send  'em  '  C.  O.  D.'  like  any  other  pack- 
age. And  he  did,  and  here  they  are ! 
That 's  all !  And  now,  gentlemen,  as  I  've 
got  to  deliver  them  personally  to  this  Spin- 
dler, and  get  his  receipt  and  take  off  their 
checks,  I  reckon  we  must  toddle.  Come, 
Bill,  help  take  'em  up  !  " 

"  Hold   on ! "    said   a   dozen   voices.     A 


148     DICK  SPINDLEKS  CHRISTMAS 

dozen  hands  were  thrust  into  a  dozen  pockets ; 
I  grieve  to  say  some  were  regretfully  with- 
drawn empty,  for  it  was  a  hard  season  in 
Rough  and  Ready.  But  the  expressman 
stepped  before  them,  with  warning,  uplifted 
hand. 

"  Not  a  cent,  boys,  —  not  a  cent !  Wells, 
Fargo's  Express  Company  don't  undertake 
to  carry  bullion  with  those  kids,  at  least  on 
the  same  contract !  "  He  laughed,  and  then 
looking  around  him,  said  confidentially  in  a 
lower  voice,  which,  however,  was  quite  audi- 
ble to  the  children,  "  There  's  as  much  as 
three  bags  of  silver  in  quarter  and  half  dol- 
lars in  my  treasure  box  in  the  coach  that 
has  been  poured,  yes,  just  showered  upon 
them,  ever  since  they  started,  and  have  been 
passed  over  from  agent  to  agent  and  mes- 
senger to  messenger,  —  enough  to  pay  their 
passage  from  here  to  China !  It 's  time  to 
say  quits  now.  But  bet  your  life,  they  are 
not  going  to  that  Christmas  party  poor !  " 

He  caught  up  the  boy,  as  Yuba  Bill  lifted 
the  little  girl  to  his  shoulder,  and  both 
passed  out.  Then  one  by  one  the  loungers 
in  the  bar-room  silently  and  awkwardly 
followed,  and  when  the  barkeeper  turned 


DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHBISTMAS     149 

back  from  putting  away  his  decanters  and 
glasses,  to  his  astonishment  the  room  was 
empty. 

Spindler's  house,  or  "  Spindler's  Splurge," 
as  Rough  and  Ready  chose  to  call  it,  stood 
above  the  settlement,  on  a  deforested  hill- 
side, which,  however,  revenged  itself  by 
producing  not  enough  vegetation  to  cover 
even  the  few  stumps  that  were  ineradicable. 
A  large  wooden  structure  in  the  pseudo- 
classic  style  affected  by  Westerners,  with  an 
incongruous  cupola,  it  was  oddly  enough  re- 
lieved by  a  still  more  incongruous  veranda 
extending  around  its  four  sides,  upheld  by 
wooden  Doric  columns,  which  were  already 
picturesquely  covered  with  flowering  vines 
and  sun-loving  roses.  Mr.  Spindler  had 
trusted  the  furnishing  of  its  interior  to  the 
same  contractor  who  had  upholstered  the 
gilded  bar-room  of  the  Eureka  Saloon,  and 
who  had  apparently  bestowed  the  same  de- 
sign and  material,  impartially,  on  each. 
There  were  gilded  mirrors  all  over  the 
house  and  chilly  marble-topped  tables,  gilt 
plaster  Cupids  in  the  corners,  and  stuccoed 
lions  "  in  the  way  "  everywhere.  The  tact- 


150     DICE  SPINDLEWS  CHRISTMAS 

ful  hands  of  Mrs.  Price  had  screened  some 
of  these  with  seasonable  laurels,  fir  boughs, 
and  berries,  and  had  imparted  a  slight 
Christmas  flavor  to  the  house.  But  the 
greater  part  of  her  time  had  been  employed 
in  trying  to  subdue  the  eccentricities  of 
Spindler's  amazing  relations  ;  in  tranquiliz- 
ing  Mrs.  "  Aunt "  Martha  Spindler,  —  the 
elderly  cook  before  alluded  to,  —  who  was  in- 
clined to  regard  the  gilded  splendors  of  the 
house  as  indicative  of  dangerous  immorality ; 
in  restraining  "  Cousin  "  Morley  Hewlett 
from  considering  the  dining-room  buffet  as  a 
bar  for  "  intermittent  refreshment ;  "  and  in 
keeping  the  weak-minded  nephew,  Phinney 
Spindler,  from  shooting  at  bottles  from  the 
veranda,  wearing  his  uncle's  clothes,  or  run- 
ning up  an  account  in  his  uncle's  name  for 
various  articles  at  the  general  stores.  Yet 
the  unlooked-for  arrival  of  the  two  children 
had  been  the  one  great  compensation  and 
diversion  for  her.  She  wrote  at  once  to  her 
nieces  a  brief  account  of  her  miraculous 
deliverance.  "  I  think  these  poor  children 
dropped  from  the  skies  here  to  make  our 
Christmas  party  possible,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  sympathy  they  have  created  in  Rough 


DICK  SPINDLEWS  CHRISTMAS     151 

and  Ready  for  Spindler.  He  is  going  to 
keep  them  as  long  as  he  can,  and  is  writing 
to  the  father.  Think  of  the  poor  little  tots 
traveling  a  thousand  miles  to  '  Krissmass,' 
as  they  call  it !  —  though  they  were  so  well 
cared  for  by  the  messengers  that  their  little 
bodies  were  positively  stuffed  like  quails.  So, 
you  see,  dear,  we  will  be  able  to  get  along 
without  airing  your  famous  idea.  I  'm  sorry, 
for  I  know  you  're  just  dying  to  see  it  all." 

Whatever  Kate's  "  idea "  might  have 
been,  there  certainly  seemed  now  no  need  of 
any  extraneous  aid  to  Mrs.  Price's  manage- 
ment. Christmas  came  at  last,  and  the 
dinner  passed  off  without  serious  disaster. 
But  the  ordeal  of  the  reception  of  Rough 
and  Ready  was  still  to  come.  For  Mrs. 
Price  well  knew  that  although  "  the  boys  " 
were  more  subdued,  and,  indeed,  inclined 
to  sympathize  with  their  host's  uncouth 
endeavor,  there  was  still  much  in  the  aspect 
of  Spindler 's  relations  to  excite  their  sense 
of  the  ludicrous. 

But  here  Fortune  again  favored  the  house 
of  Spindler  with  a  dramatic  surprise,  even 
greater  than  the  advent  of  the  children  had 
been.  In  the  change  that  had  come  over 


152      DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS 

Rough  and  Ready,  "  the  boys  "  had  decided, 
out  of  deference  to  the  women  and  children, 
to  omit  the  first  part  of  their  programme, 
and  had  approached  and  entered  the  house 
as  soberly  and  quietly  as  ordinary  guests. 
But  before  they  had  shaken  hands  with  the 
host  and  hostess,  and  seen  the  relations,  tho 
clatter  of  wheels  was  heard  before  the  open 
door,  and  its  lights  flashed  upon  a  carriage 
and  pair,  —  an  actual  private  carriage,— 
the  like  of  which  had  not  been  seen  since 
the  governor  of  the  State  had  come  down 
to  open  the  new  ditch  !  Then  there  was  a 
pause,  the  flash  of  the  carriage  lamps  upon 
white  silk,  the  light  tread  of  a  satin  foot  on 
the  veranda  and  in  the  hall,  and  the  entrance 
of  a  vision  of  loveliness !  Middle-aged 
men  and  old  dwellers  of  cities  remembered 
their  youth  ;  younger  men  bethought  them- 
selves of  Cinderella  and  the  Prince  !  There 
was  a  thrill  and  a  hush  as  this  last  guest  — 
a  beautiful  girl,  radiant  with  youth  and 
adornment  —  put  a  dainty  glass  to  her 
sparkling  eye  and  advanced  familiarly,  with 
outstretched  hand,  to  Dick  Spindler.  Mrs. 
Price  gave  a  single  gasp,  and  drew  back 
speechless. 


DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS     153 

"  Uncle  Dick,"  said  a  laughing  contralto 
voice,  which,  indeed,  somewhat  recalled  Mrs. 
Price's  own,  in  its  courageous  frankness,  "  I 
am  so  delighted  to  come,  even  if  a  little 
late,  and  so  sorry  that  Mr.  M'Kenna  could 
not  come  on  account  of  business." 

Everybody  listened  eagerly,  but  none 
more  eagerly  and  surprisingly  than  the  host 
himself.  M'Kenna  !  The  rich  cousin  who 
had  never  answered  the  invitation  !  And 
Uncle  Dick  !  This,  then,  was  his  divorced 
niece  !  Yet  even  in  his  astonishment  he 
remembered  that  of  course  no  one  but  him- 
self and  Mrs.  Price  knew  it,  —  and  that  lady 
had  glanced  discreetly  away. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  half -niece  brightly. 
"  I  came  from  Sacramento  with  some  friends 
to  Shootersville,  and  from  thence  I  drove 
here  ;  and  though  I  must  return  to-night,  I 
could  not  forego  the  pleasure  of  coming,  if 
it  was  only  for  an  hour  or  two,  to  answer  the 
invitation  of  the  uncle  I  have  not  seen  for 
years."  She  paused,  and,  raising  her  glasses, 
turned  a  politely  questioning  eye  towards 
Mrs.  Price.  "  One  of  our  relations  ?  "  she 
said  smilingly  to  Spindler. 

"  No,"  said  Spindler,  with  some  embarrass- 
ment, "a  —  a  friend !  " 


154     DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHRISTMAS 

The  half-niece  extended  her  hand.  Mrs. 
Price  took  it. 

But  the  fair  stranger,  —  what  she  did 
and  said  were  the  only  things  remembered 
in  Rough  and  Ready  on  that  festive  occa- 
sion ;  no  one  thought  of  the  other  relations  ; 
no  one  recalled  them  nor  their  eccentri- 
cities ;  Spindler  himself  was  forgotten.  Peo- 
ple only  recollected  how  Spindler's  lovely 
niece  lavished  her  smiles  and  courtesies  on 
every  one,  and  brought  to  her  feet  particu- 
larly the  misogynist  Starbuck  and  the  sar- 
castic Cooledge,  oblivious  of  his  previous 
speech ;  how  she  sat  at  the  piano  and  sang 
like  an  angel,  hushing  the  most  hilarious 
and  excited  into  sentimental  and  even  maud- 
lin silence ;  how,  graceful  as  a  nymph,  she 
led  with  "  Uncle  Dick "  a  Virginia  reel 
until  the  whole  assembly  joined,  eager  for  a 
passing  touch  of  her  dainty  hand  in  ii^s 
changes  ;  how,  when  two  hours  had  passed, 
—  all  too  swiftly  for  the  guests,  —  they  stood 
with  bared  heads  and  glistening  eyes  on  the 
veranda  to  see  the  fairy  coach  whirl  the 
fairy  princess  away  !  How  —  but  this  inci- 
dent was  never  known  to  Rough  and  Ready. 

It  happened  in  the  sacred  dressing-room, 


DICK  SPINDLER'S  CHEISTMAS     155 

where  Mrs.  Price  was  cloaking  with  her 
own  hands  the  departing  half-niece  of  Mr. 
Spindler.  Taking  that  opportunity  to  seize 
the  lovely  relative  by  the  shoulders  and 
shake  her  violently,  she  said :  "  Oh,  yes, 
and  it 's  all  very  well  for  you,  Kate,  you 
limb !  For  you  're  going  away,  and  will 
never  see  Rough  and  Ready  and  poor  Spin- 
dler again.  But  what  am  I  to  do,  miss? 
How  am  I  to  face  it  out  ?  For  you  know 
I  've  got  to  tell  him  at  least  that  you  're  no 
half -niece  of  his  !  " 

"  Have  you?  "  said  the  young  lady. 

"Have  I?"  repeated  the  widow  impa- 
tiently. "Have  I?  Of  course  I  have! 
What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,  aunty,"  said  the  girl 
audaciously,  "  that  from  what  I  've  seen  and 
heard  to-night,  if  I  'm  not  his  half-niece 
now,  it 's  only  a  question  of  time  !  So  you  'd 
better  wait.  Good-night,  dear." 

And,  really,  —  it  turned  out  that  she  was 
right ! 


WHEN  THE  WATERS  WERE  UP  AT 
"  JULES' " 

WHEN  the  waters  were  up  at  "  Jules' " 
there  was  little  else  up  on  that  monotonous 
level.  For  the  few  inhabitants  who  calmly 
and  methodically  moved  to  higher  ground, 
camping  out  in  tents  until  the  flood  had 
subsided,  left  no  distracting  wreckage  be- 
hind them.  A  dozen  half-submerged  log 
cabins  dotted  the  tranquil  surface  of  the 
waters,  without  ripple  or  disturbance,  look- 
ing in  the  moonlight  more  like  the  ruins  of 
centuries  than  of  a  few  days.  There  was 
no  current  to  sap  their  slight  foundations 
or  sweep  them  away;  nothing  stirred  that 
silent  lake  but  the  occasional  shot-like  in- 
dentations of  a  passing  raindrop,  or,  still 
more  rarely,  a  raft,  made  of  a  single  log, 
propelled  by  some  citizen  on  a  tour  of  in- 
spection of  his  cabin  roof -tree,  where  some  of 
his  goods  were  still  stored.  There  was  no 
sense  of  terror  in  this  bland  obliteration  of 
the  little  settlement ;  the  ruins  of  a  single 


WATERS   WERE   UP  AT  JULES1         157 

burnt-up  cabin  would  have  been  more  im- 
pressive than  this  stupid  and  even  gro- 
tesquely placid  effect  of  the  rival  destroying 
element.  People  took  it  naturally;  the 
water  went  as  it  had  come,  —  slowly,  impas- 
sively, noiselessly;  a  few  days  of  fervid 
Californian  sunshine  dried  the  cabins,  and 
in  a  week  or  two  the  red  dust  lay  again  as 
thickly  before  their  doors  as  the  winter  mud 
had  lain.  The  waters  of  Rattlesnake  Creek 
dropped  below  its  banks,  the  stage-coach 
from  Marysville  no  longer  made  a  detour  of 
the  settlement.  There  was  even  a  singular 
compensation  to  this  amicable  invasion ;  the 
inhabitants  sometimes  found  gold  in  those 
breaches  in  the  banks  made  by  the  overflow. 
To  wait  for  the  "  old  Rattlesnake  sluicing  " 
was  a  vernal  hope  of  the  trusting  miner. 

The  history  of  "  Jules',"  however,  was 
once  destined  to  offer  a  singular  interruption 
of  this  peaceful  and  methodical  process. 
The  winter  of  1859-60  was  an  exceptional 
one.  But  little  rain  had  fallen  in  the  val- 
leys, although  the  snow  lay  deep  in  the  high 
Sierras.  Passes  were  choked,  ravines  filled, 
and  glaciers  found  on  their  slopes.  And 
when  the  tardy  rains  came  with  the  with- 


158  WHEN  THE   WATERS 

held  southwesterly  "trades,"  the  regular 
phenomenon  recurred;  Jules'  Flat  silently, 
noiselessly,  and  peacefully  went  under  water ; 
the  inhabitants  moved  to  the  higher  ground, 
perhaps  a  little  more  expeditiously  from  an 
impatience  born  of  the  delay.  The  stage- 
coach from  Marysville  made  its  usual  detour 
and  stopped  before  the  temporary  hotel,  ex- 
press offices,  and  general  store  of  "  Jules','' 
under  canvas,  bark,  and  the  limp  leaves  of 
a  spreading  alder.  It  deposited  a  single 
passenger,  —  Miles  Hemmingway,  of  San 
Francisco,  but  originally  of  Boston,  —  the 
young  secretary  of  a  mining  company,  dis- 
patched to  report  upon  the  alleged  aurifer- 
ous value  of  "  Jules'."  Of  this  he  had  been 
by  no  means  impressed  as  he  looked  down 
upon  the  submerged  cabins  from  the  box- 
seat  of  the  coach  and  listened  to  the  driver's 
lazy  recital  of  the  flood,  and  of  the  singu- 
larly patient  acceptance  of  it  by  the  inhab- 
itants. 

It  was  the  old  story  of  the  southwestern 
miner's  indolence  and  incompetency,  —  ut- 
terly distasteful  to  his  northern  habits  of 
thought  and  education.  Here  was  their  old 
fatuous  endurance  of  Nature's  wild  caprices, 


WERE   UP  AT  JULES'  159 

without  that  struggle  against  them  which 
brought  others  strength  and  success ;  here 
was  the  old  philosophy  which  accepted  the 
prairie  fire  and  cyclone,  and  survived  them 
without  advancement,  yet  without  repining. 
Perhaps  in  different  places  and  surround- 
ings a  submission  so  stoic  might  have  im- 
pressed him ;  in  gentlemen  who  tucked  their 
dirty  trousers  in  their  muddy  boots  and 
lived  only  for  the  gold  they  dug,  it  did  not 
seem  to  him  heroic.  Nor  was  he  mollified 
as  he  stood  beside  the  rude  refreshment  bar 
—  a  few  planks  laid  on  trestles  —  and  drank 
his  coffee  beneath  the  dripping  canvas  roof, 
with  an  odd  recollection  of  his  boyhood  and 
an  inclement  Sunday-school  picnic.  Yet 
these  men  had  been  living  in  this  shiftless 
fashion  for  three  weeks !  It  exasperated 
him  still  more  to  think  that  he  might  have 
to  wait  there  a  few  days  longer  for  the 
water  to  subside  sufficiently  for  him  to  make 
his  examination  and  report.  As  he  took  a 
proffered  seat  on  a  candle-box,  which  tilted 
under  him,  and  another  survey  of  the  feeble 
makeshifts  around  him,  his  irascibility  found 
vent. 

"  Why,  in  the  name  of  God,  did  n't  you, 


160  WHEN  THE  WATERS 

after  you  had  been  flooded  out  once,  build 
your  cabins  permanently  on  higher  ground  ?  " 

Although  the  tone  of  his  voice  was  more 
disturbing  than  his  question,  it  pleased  one 
of  the  loungers  to  affect  to  take  it  literally. 

"  Well,  ez  you  've  put  it  that  way,  — '  in 
the  name  of  God  ! '  "  —  returned  the  man 
lazily,  "  it  mout  hev  struck  us  that  ez  He 
was  bossin'  the  job,  so  to  speak,  and  handlin' 
things  round  here  generally,  we  might  leave 
it  to  Him.  It  was  n't  OUT  flood  to  monkey 
with." 

"  And  as  He  did  n't  coven-ant,  so  to  speak, 
to  look  arter  this  higher  ground  'speshally, 
and  make  an  Ararat  of  it  for  us,  ez  far  ez 
we  could  see,  we  didn't  see  any  reason  for 
settliri*  yer,"  put  in  a  second  speaker,  with 
equal  laziness. 

The  secretary  saw  his  mistake  instantly, 
and  had  experience  enough  of  Western  hu- 
mor not  to  prolong  the  disadvantage  of  his 
unfortunate  adjuration.  He  colored  slightly 
and  said,  with  a  smile,  "  You  know  what  I 
mean ;  you  could  have  protected  yourselves 
better.  A  levee  on  the  bank  would  have 
kept  you  clear  of  the  highest  watermark." 

"Hev  you  ever  heard  what  the   highest 


WEEE   UP  AT  JULES'  161 

watermark  was?"  said  the  first  speaker, 
turning  to  another  of  the  loungers  without 
looking  at  the  secretary. 

"  Never  heard  it,  —  did  n't  know  there  was 
a  limit  before,"  responded  the  man. 

The  first  speaker  turned  back  to  the  sec- 
retary. "  Did  you  ever  know  what  happened 
at  '  Bulger's,'  on  the  North  Fork?  They 
had  one  o'  them  levees." 

"  No.  What  happened  ?  "  asked  the  sec- 
retary impatiently. 

"  They  was  fixed  suthin'  like  us,"  returned 
the  first  speaker,  "  They  allowed  they  'd 
build  a  levee  above  their  highest  watermark, 
and  did.  It  worked  like  a  charm  at  first ; 
but  the  water  hed  to  go  somewhere,  and  it 
kinder  collected  at  the  first  bend.  Then  it 
sorter  raised  itself  on  its  elbows  one  day, 
and  looked  over  the  levee  down  upon  whar 
some  of  the  boys  was  washiii'  quite  comf'ble. 
Then  it  paid  no  sorter  attention  to  the  limit 
o'  that  high  watermark,  but  went  six  inches 
better  !  Not  slow  and  quiet  like  ez  it  useter 
to,  ez  it  does  here,  kinder  fillin'  up  from  be- 
low, but  went  over  with  a  rush  and  a  cur- 
rent, hevin'  of  course  the  whole  height  of 
the  levee  to  fall  on  t'  other  side  where 


162  WHEN  THE  WATERS 

the  boys  were  sluicing."  He  paused,  and 
amidst  a  profound  silence  added,  "  They 
say  that  '  Bulger's '  was  scattered  promiscu- 
ous-like  all  along  the  fort  for  five  miles.  I 
only  know  that  one  of  his  mules  and  a  sec- 
tion of  sluicing  was  picked  up  at  Red  Flat, 
eight  miles  away !  " 

Mr.  Hemmingway  felt  that  there  was  an 
answer  to  this,  but,  being  wise,  also  felt  that 
it  would  be  unavailing.  He  smiled  politely 
and  said  nothing,  at  which  the  first  speaker 
turned  to  him  :  — 

"Thar  ain't  anything  to  see  to-day,  but 
to-morrow,  ez  things  go,  the  water  oughter 
be  droppin'.  Mebbe  you  'd  like  to  wash 
up  now  and  clean  yourself,"  he  added,  with 
a  glance  at  Hemmingway' s  small  portman- 
teau. "  Ez  we  thought  you  'd  likely  be 
crowded  here,  we  've  rigged  up  a  corner  for 
you  at  Stanton's  shanty  with  the  women." 

The  young  man's  cheek  flushed  slightly  at 
some  possible  irony  in  this,  and  he  protested 
with  considerable  stress  that  he  was  quite 
ready  "  to  rough  it "  where  he  was. 

"  I  reckon  it 's  already  fixed,"  returned 
the  man  decisively,  "  so  you  'd  better  come 
and  I  '11  show  you  the  way." 


WEEE  UP  AT  JULES'  163 

"  One  moment,"  said  Hemmingway,  with 
a  smile ;  "  my  credentials  are  addressed  to 
the  manager  of  the  Boone  Ditch  Company 
at  '  Jules'.'  Perhaps  I  ought  to  see  him 
first." 

"  All  right ;  he  's  Stanton." 

"  And  "  —  hesitated  the  secretary,  "  you, 
who  appear  to  understand  the  locality  so 
well,  —  I  trust  I  may  have  the  pleasure  "  — 

«  Oh,  I  'm  Jules." 

The  secretary  was  a  little  startled  and 
amused.  So  "Jules"  was  a  person,  and 
not  a  place ! 

"  Then  you  're  a  pioneer  ?  "  asked  Hem- 
mingway, a  little  less  dictatorially,  as  they 
passed  out  under  the  dripping  trees. 

"  I  struck  this  creek  in  the  fall  of  '49, 
comin'  over  Livermore's  Pass  with  Stanton," 
returned  Jules,  with  great  brevity  of  speech 
and  deliberate  tardiness  of  delivery.  "  Sent 
for  my  wife  and  two  children  the  next  year  ; 
wife  died  same  winter,  change  bein'  too  sud- 
den for  her,  and  contractin'  chills  and  fever 
at  Sweetwater.  When  I  kem  here  first  thar 
was  n't  six  inches  o'  water  in  the  creek ; 
but  there  was  a  heap  of  it  over  there  where 
you  see  them  yallowish-green  patches  and 


164  WHEN   THE   WATEBS 

strips  o'  brush  and  grass ;  all  that  war 
water  then,  and  all  that  growth  hez  sprung 
up  since." 

Hemmingway  looked  around  him.  The 
"  higher  ground  "  where  they  stood  was  in 
reality  only  a  mound-like  elevation  above  the 
dead  level  of  the  flat,  and  the  few  trees 
were  merely  recent  young  willows  and  alders. 
The  area  of  actual  depression  was  much 
greater  than  he  had  imagined,  and  its  resem- 
blance to  the  bed  of  some  prehistoric  inland 
sea  struck  him  forcibly.  A  previous  larger 
inundation  than  Jules'  brief  experience  had 
ever  known  had  been  by  no  means  improb- 
able. His  cheek  reddened  at  his  previous 
hasty  indictment  of  the  settlers'  ignorance 
and  shiftlessness,  and  the  thought  that  he 
had  probably  committed  his  employers  to  his 
own  rash  confidence  and  superiority  of  judg- 
ment. However,  there  was  no  evidence 
that  this  diluvial  record  was  not  of  the  re- 
mote past.  He  smiled  again  with  greater 
security  as  he  thought  of  the  geological 
changes  that  had  since  tempered  these  cata- 
clysms, and  the  amelioration  brought  by 
settlement  and  cultivation.  Nevertheless, 
he  would  make  a  thorough  examination  to- 
morrow. 


WERE  UP  AT  JULES1  165 

Stanton's  cabin  was  the  furthest  of  these 
temporary  habitations,  and  was  partly  on  the 
declivity  which  began  to  slope  to  the  river's 
bank.  It  was,  like  the  others,  a  rough 
shanty  of  unplaned  boards,  but,  unlike  the 
others,  it  had  a  base  of  logs  laid  lengthwise 
on  the  ground  and  parallel  with  each  other, 
on  which  the  flooring  and  structure  were  se- 
curely fastened.  This  gave  it  the  appear- 
ance of  a  box  slid  on  runners,  or  a  Noah's 
Ark  whose  bulk  had  been  reduced.  Jules 
explained  that  the  logs,  laid  in  that  man- 
ner, kept  the  shanty  warmer  and  free  from 
damp.  In  reply  to  Hemmingway's  sugges- 
tion that  it  was  a  great  waste  of  material, 
Jules  simply  replied  that  the  logs  were  the 
"  flotsam  and  jetsam  "  of  the  creek  from  the 
overflowed  mills  below. 

Hemmingway  again  smiled.  It  was  again 
the  old  story  of  Western  waste  and  prodi- 
gality. Accompanied  by  Jules,  however,  he 
climbed  up  the  huge,  slippery  logs  which 
made  a  platform  before  the  door,  and  en- 
tered. 

The  single  room  was  unequally  divided ; 
the  larger  part  containing  three  beds,  by 
day  rolled  in  a  single  pile  in  one  corner  to 


166  WHEN  THE  WATEES 

make  room  for  a  table  and  chairs.  A  few 
dresses  hanging  from  nails  on  the  wall 
showed  that  it  was  the  women's  room.  The 
smaller  compartment  was  again  subdivided 
by  a  hanging  blanket,  behind  which  was  a 
rude  bunk  or  berth  against  the  wall,  a  table 
made  of  a  packing-box,  containing  a  tin 
basin  and  a  can  of  water.  This  was  his 
apartment. 

"The  women-folks  are  down  the  creek, 
bakin',  to-day,"  said  Jules  explanatorily; 
"  but  I  reckon  that  one  of  'em  will  be  up 
here  in  a  jiffy  to  make  supper,  so  you  just 
take  it  easy  till  they  come.  I  've  got  to  me- 
ander over  to  the  claim  afore  /turn  in,  but 
you  just  lie  by  to-night  and  take  a  rest." 

He  turned  away,  leaving  Hemmingway 
standing  in  the  doorway  still  distraught  and 
hesitating.  Nor  did  the  young  man  recog- 
nize the  delicacy  of  Jules'  leave-taking  until 
he  had  unstrapped  his  portmanteau  and 
found  himself  alone,  free  to  make  his  toilet, 
unembarrassed  by  company.  But  even  then 
he  would  have  preferred  the  rough  compan- 
ionship of  the  miners  in  the  common  dormi- 
tory of  the  general  store  to  this  intrusion 
upon  the  half-civilization  of  the  women, 


WEEE  UP  AT  JULES'  167 

their  pitiable  little  comforts  and  secret 
makeshifts.  His  disgust  of  his  own  inde- 
cision which  brought  him  there  naturally 
recoiled  in  the  direction  of  his  host  and 
hostesses,  and  after  a  hurried  ablution,  a 
change  of  linen,  and  an  attempt  to  remove 
the  stains  of  travel  from  his  clothes,  he 
strode  out  impatiently  into  the  open  air 
again. 

It  was  singularly  mild  even  for  the  sea- 
son. The  southwest  trades  blew  softly,  and 
whispered  to  him  of  San  Francisco  and  the 
distant  Pacific,  with  its  long,  steady  swell. 
He  turned  again  to  the  overflowed  Flat 
beneath  him,  and  the  sluggish  yellow  water 
that  scarcely  broke  a  ripple  against  the 
walls  of  the  half-submerged  cabins.  And 
this  was  the  water  for  whose  going  down 
they  were  waiting  with  an  immobility  as 
tranquil  as  the  waters  themselves !  What 
marvelous  incompetency,  —  or  what  infinite 
patience !  He  knew,  of  course,  their  ex- 
pected compensation  in  this  "ground  slui- 
cing "  at  Nature's  own  hand  ;  the  long  rifts 
in  the  banks  of  the  creek  which  so  often 
showed  "  the  color  "  in  the  sparkling  scales 
of  river  gold  disclosed  by  the  action  of  the 


168  WHEN   THE   WATERS 

water ;  the  heaps  of  reddish  mud  left  after 
its  subsidence  around  the  walls  of  the  cabins, 
—  a  deposit  that  often  contained  a  treasure 
a  dozen  times  more  valuable  than  the  cabin 
itself!  And  then  he  heard  behind  him  a 
laugh,  a  short  and  panting  brQath,  and  turn- 
ing, beheld  a  young  woman  running  towards 
him. 

In  his  first  astounded  sight  of  her,  in  her 
limp  nankeen  sunbonnet,  thrown  back  from 
her  head  by  the  impetus  of  her  flight,  he 
saw  only  too  much  hair,  two  much  white 
teeth,  too  much  eye-flash,  and,  above  all,  — 
as  it  appeared  to  him,  —  too  much  confidence 
in  the  power  of  these  qualities.  Even  as 
she  ran,  it  seemed  to  him  that  she  was  pull- 
ing down  ostentatiously  the  rolled-up  sleeves 
of  her  pink  calico  gown  over  her  shapely 
arms.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the 
young  gentleman's  temper  was  at  fault,  and 
his  conclusion  hasty ;  a  calmer  observer 
would  have  detected  nothing  of  this  in  her 
frankly  cheerful  voice.  Nevertheless,  her 
evident  pleasure  in  the  meeting  seemed  to 
him  only  obtrusive  coquetry. 

"  Lordy !  I  reckoned  to  git  here  afore 
you  'd  get  through  fixin'  up,  and  in  time  to 


WERE  UP  AT  JULES'  169 

do  a  little  prinkin'  myself,  and  here  you're 
out  already."  She  laughed,  glancing  at  his 
clean  shirt  and  damp  hair.  "  But  all  the 
same,  we  kin  have  a  talk,  and  you  kin  tell 
me  all  the  news  afore  the  other  wimmen  get 
up  here.  It '%  a  coon's  age  since  I  was  at 
Sacramento  and  saw  anybody  or  anything." 
She  stopped  and,  instinctively  detecting 
some  vague  reticence  in  the  man  before  her, 
said,  still  laughing,  "  You  're  Mr.  Hemming- 
way,  ain't  you?" 

Hemmingway  took  off  his  hat  quickly,  with 
a  slight  start  at  his  forgetfulness.  "  I  beg 
your  pardon  ;  yes,  certainly." 

"Aunty  Stanton  thought  it  was  'Hum- 
mingbird,' "  said  the  girl,  with  a  laugh, 
"  but  I  reckoned  not.  I  'm  Jinney  Jules, 
you  know ;  folks  call  me  '  J.  J.'  It  wouldn't 
do  for  a  Hummingbird  and  a  Jay  Jay  to  be 
in  the  same  camp,  would  it  ?  It  would  be 
just  too  funny ! " 

Hemmingway  did  not  find  the  humor  of 
this  so  singularly  exhaustive,  but  he  was  al- 
ready beginning  to  be  ashamed  of  his  atti- 
tude towards  her.  "  I  'm  very  sorry  to  be 
giving  you  all  this  trouble  by  my  intrusion, 
for  I  was  quite  willing  to  stay  at  the  store 


170  WHEN  THE   WATEES 

yonder.  Indeed,"  he  added,  with  a  burst 
of  frankness  quite  as  sincere  as  her  own,  "  if 
you  think  your  father  will  not  be  offended, 
I  would  gladly  go  there  now." 

If  he  still  believed  in  her  coquetry  and 
vanity,  he  would  have  been  undeceived  and 
crushed  by  the  equal  and  sincere  frankness 
with  which  she  met  this  ungallant  speech. 

"  No !  I  reckon  he  would  n't  care,  if 
you  'd  be  as  comf 'ble  and  fit  for  to-morrow. 
But  ye  wouldn't,"  she  said  reflectively. 
"  The  boys  thar  sit  up  late  over  euchre,  and 
swear  a  heap,  and  Simpson,  who  'd  sleep 
alongside  of  ye,  snores  pow'ful,  I  've  heard. 
Aunty  Stanton  kin  do  her  level  at  that,  too, 
and  they  say  "  — with  a  laugh  —  "  that  / 
kin,  too,  but  you  're  away  off  in  that  corner, 
and  it  won't  reach  you.  So,  takin'  it  all, 
by  the  large,  you  'd  better  stay  whar  ye 
are.  We  wimmen,  that  is,  the  most  of  us, 
will  be  off  and  away  down  to  Rattlesnake 
Bar  shoppin'  afore  sun  up,  so  ye  '11  sleep  ez 
long  ez  ye  want  to,  and  find  yer  breakfast 
ready  when  ye  wake.  So  I  '11  jest  set  to 
and  get  ye  some  supper,  and  ye  kin  tell  me 
all  the  doin's  in  Sacramento  and  'Frisco 
while  I  'm  workin'." 


WERE   UP  AT  JULES'1  171 

In  spite  of  her  unconscious  rebuff  to  his 
own  vanity,  Hemmingway  felt  a  sense  of 
relief  and  less  constraint  in  his  relations  to 
this  decidedly  provincial  hostess. 

"  Can  I  help  you  in  any  way  ?  "  he  asked 


"  Well,  ye  might  bring  me  an  armful  o' 
wood  from  the  pile  under  the  alders,  ef  ye 
ain't  afraid  o'  dirtyin'  your  coat,"  she  said 
tentatively. 

Mr.  Hemmingway  was  not  afraid  ;  he  de- 
clared himself  delighted.  He  brought  a 
generous  armful  of  small  cut  willow  boughs, 
and  deposited  them  before  a  small  stove, 
which  seemed  a  temporary  substitute  for 
the  usual  large  adobe  chimney  that  gen- 
erally occupied  the  entire  gable  of  a  miner's 
cabin.  An  elbow  and  short  length  of  stove- 
pipe carried  the  smoke  through  the  cabin 
side.  But  he  also  noticed  that  his  fair  com- 
panion had  used  the  interval  to  put  on  a 
pair  of  white  cuffs  and  a  collar.  However, 
she  brushed  the  green  moss  from  his  sleeve 
with  some  toweling,  and  although  this 
operation  brought  her  so  near  to  him  that 
her  breath  —  as  soft  and  warm  as  the  south- 
west trades  —  stirred  his  hair,  it  was  evi- 


172  WHEN   THE   WATERS 

dent  that  this  contiguity  was  only  frontier 
familiarity,  as  far  removed  from  conscious 
coquetry  as  it  was,  perhaps,  from  educated 
delicacy. 

"  The  boys  gin' rally  kem  to  take  up 
enough  wood  for  me  to  begin  with,"  she 
said,  "  but  I  reckon  they  did  n't  know  I  was 
comin'  up  so  soon." 

Hemmingway's  distrust  returned  a  little 
at  this  obvious  suggestion  that  he  was  only 
a  substitute  for  their  general  gallantry,  but 
he  smiled  and  said  somewhat  bluntly,  "  I 
don't  suppose  you  lack  for  admirers  here." 

The  girl,  however,  took  him  literally. 
"  Lordy,  no !  Me  and  Mamie  Robinson 
are  the  only  girls  for  fifteen  miles  along 
the  creek.  Admirin1 1  I  call  it  jest  pes- 
teriri'  sometimes !  I  reckon  I  '11  hev  to  keep 
a  dog ! " 

Hemmingway  shivered.  Yes,  she  was 
not  only  conscious,  but  spoilt  already.  He 
pictured  to  himself  the  uncouth  gallantries 
of  the  settlement,  the  provincial  badinage, 
the  feeble  rivalries  of  the  young  men  whom 
he  had  seen  at  the  general  store.  Undoubt- 
edly this  was  what  she  was  expecting  in 
him  ! 


WERE   UP  AT  JULES'1  173 

"  Well,"  she  said,  turning  from  the  fire 
she  had  kindled,  "  while  I  'm  settin'  the 
table,  tell  me  what 's  a-doin'  in  Sacramento  ! 
I  reckon  you  've  got  heaps  of  lady  friends 
thar,  —  I'm  told  there's  lots  of  fashions 
just  from  the  States." 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  know  enough  of 
them  to  interest  you,"  he  said  dryly. 

"  Go  on  and  talk,"  she  replied.  "  Why, 
when  Tom  Flynn  kem  back  from  Sacra- 
mento, and  he  war  n't  thar  more  nor  a  week, 
he  jest  slung  yarns  about  his  doin's  thar  to 
last  the  hull  rainy  season." 

Half  amused  and  half  annoyed,  Heni- 
mingway  seated  himself  on  the  little  plat- 
form beside  the  open  door,  and  began  a 
conscientious  description  of  the  progress  of 
Sacramento,  its  new  buildings,  hotels,  and 
theatres,  as  it  had  struck  him  on  his  last 
visit.  For  a  while  he  was  somewhat  enter- 
tained by  the  girl's  vivacity  and  eager  ques- 
tioning, but  presently  it  began  to  pall.  He 
continued,  however,  with  a  grim  sense  of 
duty,  and  partly  as  a  reason  for  watching 
her  in  her  household  duties.  Certainly  she 
was  graceful !  Her  tall,  lithe,  but  beauti- 
fully moulded  figure,  even  in  its  character- 


174  WHEN   THE   WATERS 

istic  southwestern  indolence,  fell  into  poses 
as  picturesque  as  they  were  unconscious. 
She  lifted  the  big  molasses-can  from  its 
shelf  on  the  rafters  with  the  attitude  of  a 
Greek  water-bearer.  She  upheaved  the  heavy 
flour-sack  to  the  same  secure  shelf  with  the 
upraised  palms  of  an  Egyptian  caryatid. 
Suddenly  she  interrupted  Hemmingway's 
perfunctory  talk  with  a  hearty  laugh.  He 
started,  looked  up  from  his  seat  on  the  plat- 
form, and  saw  that  she  was  standing  over 
him  and  regarding  him  with  a  kind  of  mis- 
chievous pity. 

"  Look  here,"  she  said,  "  I  reckon  that  '11 
do !  You  kin  pull  up  short !  I  kin  see 
what 's  the  matter  with  you ;  you  're  jest 
plumb  tired,  tuckered  out,  and  want  to  turn 
in  I  So  jest  you  sit  that  quiet  until  I  get 
supper  ready  and  never  mind  me."  In  vain 
Hemmingway  protested,  with  a  rising  color. 
The  girl  only  shook  her  head.  "  Don't  tell 
me !  You  ain't  keering  to  talk,  and  you  're 
only  playin'  Sacramento  statistics  on  me," 
she  retorted,  with  unfeigned  cheerfulness. 
"  Anyhow,  here 's  the  wimmen  comin',  and 
supper  is  ready." 

There  was   a   sound   of   weary,   resigned 


WERE  UP  AT  JULES1  175 

ejaculations  and  pantings,  and  three  gaunt 
women  in  lustreless  alpaca  gowns  appeared 
before  the  cabin.  They  seemed  prematurely 
aged  and  worn  with  labor,  anxiety,  and  ill 
nourishment.  Doubtless  somewhere  in  these 
ruins  a  flower  like  Jay  Jules  had  once  flour- 
ished ;  doubtless  somewhere  in  that  graceful 
nymph  herself  the  germ  of  this  dreary  ma- 
turity was  hidden.  Heinmingway  welcomed 
them  with  a  seriousness  equal  to  their  own. 
The  supper  was  partaken  with  the  kind  of 
joyless  formality  which  in  the  southwest  is 
supposed  to  indicate  deep  respect,  even  the 
cheerful  Jay  falling  under  the  influence,  and 
it  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that  at  last  the 
young  man  retired  to  his  fenced-off  corner 
for  solitude  and  repose.  He  gathered,  how- 
ever, that  before  "  sun  up  "  the  next  morn- 
ing the  elder  women  were  going  to  Rattle- 
snake Bar  for  the  weekly  shopping,  leaving 
Jay  as  before  to  prepare  his  breakfast  and 
then  join  them  later.  It  was  already  a 
change  in  his  sentiments  to  find  himself 
looking  forward  to  that  tete-a-tete  with  the 
young  girl,  as  a  chance  of  redeeming  his 
character  in  her  eyes.  He  was  beginning 
to  feel  he  had  been  stupid,  unready,  and 


176  WHEN   THE  WATERS 

withal  prejudiced.  He  undressed  himself  in 
his  seclusion,  broken  only  by  the  monoto- 
nous voices  in  the  adjoining  apartment. 
From  time  to  time  he  heard  fragments  and 
scraps  of  their  conversation,  always  in  refer- 
ence to  affairs  of  the  household  and  settle- 
ment, but  never  of  himself,  —  not  even  the 
suggestion  of  a  prudent  lowering  of  their 
voices,  —  and  fell  asleep.  He  woke  up  twice 
in  the  night  with  a  sensation  of  cold  so 
marked  and  distinct  from  his  experience  of 
the  early  evening,  that  he  was  fain  to  pile 
his  clothes  over  his  blankets  to  keep  warm. 
He  fell  asleep  again,  coming  once  more  to 
consciousness  with  a  sense  of  a  slight  jar,  but 
relapsing  again  into  slumber  for  he  knew  not 
how  long.  Then  he  was  fully  awakened  by 
a  voice  calling  him,  and,  opening  his  eyes, 
beheld  the  blanket  partition  put  aside,  and 
the  face  of  Jay  thrust  forward.  To  his  sur- 
prise it  wore  a  look  of  excited  astonishment 
dominated  by  irrepressible  laughter. 

"  Get  up  quick  as  you  kin,"  she  said  gasp- 
ingly ;  "  this  is  about  the  killiugest  thing 
that  ever  happened  !  " 

She  disappeared,  but  he  could  still  hear 
her  laughing,  and  to  his  utter  astonishment 


WERE  UP  AT  JULES'  177 

with  her  disappearance  the  floor  seemed  to 
change  its  level.  A  giddy  feeling  seized 
him  ;  he  put  his  feet  to  the  floor :  it  was  un- 
mistakably wet  and  oozing.  He  hurriedly 
clothed  himself,  still  accompanied  by  the 
strange  feeling  of  oscillation  and  giddiness, 
and  passed  through  the  opening  into  the 
next  room.  Again  his  step  produced  the 
same  effect  upon  the  floor,  and  he  actually 
stumbled  against  her  shaking  figure,  as  she 
wiped  the  tears  of  uncontrollable  mirth  from 
her  eyes  with  her  apron.  The  contact 
seemed  to  upset  her  remaining  gravity.  She 
dropped  into  a  chair,  and,  pointing  to  the 
open  door,  gasped,  "  Look  thar !  Lordy ! 
How 's  that  for  high  ?  "  threw  her  apron  over 
her  head,  and  gave  way  to  an  uproarious  fit 
of  laughter. 

Hemmingway  turned  to  the  open  door. 
A  lake  was  before  him  on  the  level  of  the 
cabin.  He  stepped  forward  on  the  platform ; 
the  water  was  right  and  left,  all  around  him. 
The  platform  dipped  slightly  to  his  step. 
The  cabin  was  afloat,  —  afloat  upon  its  base 
of  logs  like  a  raft,  the  whole  structure  upheld 
by  the  floor  on  which  the  logs  were  securely 
fastened.  The  high  ground  had  disappeared 


178  WHEN  THE   WATERS 

—  the  river  —  its  banks  —  the  green  area 
beyond.  They,  and  they  alone,  were  afloat 
upon  an  inland  sea. 

He  turned  an  astounded  and  serious  face 
upon  her  mirth.  "  When  did  it  happen  ?  " 
he  demanded.  She  checked  her  laugh,  more 
from  a  sense  of  polite  deference  to  his  mood 
than  any  fear,  and  said  quietly,  "  That  gets 
me.  Everything  was  all  right  two  hours 
ago  when  the  wimmen  left.  It  was  too 
early  to  get  your  breakfast  and  rouse  ye  out, 
and  I  fell  asleep,  I  reckon,  until  I  felt  a 
kind  o'  slump  and  a  jar."  Hemmingway 
remembered  his  own  half -conscious  sensation. 
"  Then  I  got  up  and  saw  we  was  adrift.  I 
did  n't  waken  ye,  for  I  thought  it  was  only  a 
sort  of  wave  that  would  pass.  It  wasn't 
until  I  saw  we  were  movin'  and  the  hull 
rising  ground  gettin'  away,  that  I  thought  o' 
callin'  ye." 

He  thought  of  the  vanished  general  store, 
of  her  father,  the  workers  on  the  bank,  the 
helpless  women  on  their  way  to  the  Bar,  and 
turned  almost  savagely  on  her. 

"  But  the  others,  —  where  are  they  ?  "  he 
said  indignantly.  "  Do  you  call  that  a  laugh- 
ing matter  ?  " 


WERE  UP  AT  JULES'  179 

She  stopped  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  as 
at  a  blow.  Her  face  hardened  into  immo- 
bility, yet  when  she  replied  it  was  with  the 
deliberate  indolence  of  her  father.  "  The 
wimmen  are  up  on  the  hills  by  this  time. 
The  boys  hev  bin  drowned  out  many  times 
afore  this  and  got  clear  off,  on  sluice  boxes 
and  timber,  without  squealing.  Tom  Flynn 
went  down  ten  miles  to  Sayer's  once  on  two 
bar'ls,  and  I  never  heard  that  he  was  cryin' 
when  they  picked  him  up." 

A  flush  came  to  Hemmingway's  cheek, 
but  with  it  a  gleam  of  intelligence.  Of 
course  the  inundation  was  known  to  tham 
first,  and  there  was  the  wreckage  to  support 
them.  They  had  clearly  saved  themselves. 
If  they  had  abandoned  the  cabin,  it  was  be- 
cause they  knew  its  security,  perhaps  had 
even  seen  it  safely  adrift. 

"  Has  this  ever  happened  to  the  cabin 
before  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  thought  of  its  pe- 
culiar base. 

"No." 

He  looked  at  the  water  again.  There  was 
a  decided  current.  The  overflow  was  evi- 
dently no  part  of  the  original  inundation. 
He  put  his  hand  in  the  water.  It  was  icy 


180  WHEN   THE   WATERS 

cold.  Yes,  he  understood  it  now.  It  was 
the  sudden  melting  of  snow  in  the  Sierras 
which  had  brought  this  volume  down  the 
canon.  But  was  there  more  still  to  come  ? 

"  Have  you  anything  like  a  long  pole  or 
stick  in  the  cabin  ?  " 

"  Nary,"  said  the  girl,  opening  her  big 
eyes  and  shaking  her  head  with  a  simula- 
tion of  despair,  which  was,  however,  flatly 
contradicted  by  her  laughing  mouth. 

"  Nor  any  cord  or  twine  ?  "  he  continued. 

She  handed  him  a  ball  of  coarse  twine. 

"  May  I  take  a  couple  of  these  hooks  ?  " 
he  asked,  pointing  to  some  rough  iron  hooks 
in  the  rafters,  on  which  bacon  and  jerked 
beef  were  hanging. 

She  nodded.  He  dislodged  the  hooks, 
greased  them  with  the  bacon  rind,  and 
affixed  them  to  the  twine. 

"  Fishin'  ?  "  she  asked  demurely. 

"  Exactly,"  he  replied  gravely. 

He  threw  the  line  in  the  water.  It 
slackened  at  about  six  feet,  straightened, 
and  became  taut  at  an  angle,  and  then 
dragged.  After  one  or  two  sharp  jerks  he 
pulled  it  up.  A  few  leaves  and  grasses 
were  caught  in  the  hooks.  He  examined 
them  attentively. 


WERE  UP  AT  JULES'  181 

"  We  're  not  in  the  creek,"  he  said,  "  nor 
in  the  old  overflow.  There 's  no  mud  or 
gravel  on  the  hooks,  and  these  grasses  don't 
grow  near  water." 

"Now,  that's  mighty  cute  of  you,"  she 
said  admiringly,  as  she  knelt  beside  him 
on  the  platform.  "  Let 's  see  what  you  've 
caught.  Look  yer !  "  she  added,  suddenly 
lifting  a  limp  stalk,  "  that 's  '  old  man,'  and 
thar  ain't  a  scrap  of  it  grows  nearer  than 
Springer's  Rise,  —  four  miles  from  home." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

"  Sure  as  pop !  I  used  to  go  huntin'  it 
for  smellidge." 

"  For  what  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  bewildered 
smile. 

"  For  this,"  —  she  thrust  the  leaves  to  his 
nose  and  then  to  her  own  pink  nostrils ; 
"  for  —  for  "  —  she  hesitated,  and  then  with 
a  mischievous  simulation  of  correctness 
added,  "  for  the  perfume." 

He  looked  at  her  admiringly.  For  all 
her  five  feet  ten  inches,  what  a  mere  child 
she  was,  after  all !  What  a  fool  he  wtis  to 
have  taken  a  resentful  attitude  towards  her ! 
How  charming  and  graceful  she  looked, 
kneeling  there  beside  him ! 


182  WHEN  THE  WATEES 

"  Tell  me,"  lie  said  suddenly,  in  a  gentler 
voice,  "what  were  you  laughing  at  just 
now?" 

Her  brown  eyes  wavered  for  a  moment, 
and  then  brimmed  with  merriment.  She 
threw  herself  sideways,  in  a  leaning  posture, 
supporting  herself  on  one  arm,  while  with 
her  other  hand  she  slowly  drew  out  her 
apron  string,  as  she  said,  in  a  demure 
voice :  — 

"  Well,  I  reckoned  it  was  jest  too  killin' 
to  think  of  you,  who  did  n't  want  to  talk  to 
me,  and  would  hev  given  your  hull  pile  to 
hev  skipped  out  o'  this,  jest  stuck  here 
alongside  o'  me,  whether  you  would  or  no, 
for  Lord  knows  how  long !  " 

"  But  that  was  last  night,"  he  said,  in  a 
tone  of  raillery.  "  I  was  tired,  and  you  said 
so  yourself,  you  know.  But  I  'm  ready  to 
talk  now.  What  shall  I  tell  you  ?  " 

"  Anything,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  laugh. 

"  What  I  am  thinking  of  ?  "  he  said,  with 
frankly  admiring  eyes. 

"  Yes." 

"  Everything  ?  " 

"Yes,  everything."  She  stopped,  and 
leaning  forward,  suddenly  caught  the  brim 


WERE  UP  AT  JULES'  183 

of  his  soft  felt  hat,  and  drawing  it  down 
smartly  over  his  audacious  eyes,  said,  "  Every- 
thing but  that" 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  and  some 
greater  embarrassment  that  he  succeeded  in 
getting  his  eyes  free  again.  When  he  did 
so,  she  had  risen  and  entered  the  cabin. 
Disconcerted  as  he  was,  he  was  relieved  to 
see  that  her  expression  of  amusement  was 
unchanged.  Was  her  act  a  piece  of  rustic 
coquetry,  or  had  she  resented  his  advances? 
Nor  did  her  next  words  settle  the  ques- 
tion. 

"Ye  kin  do  yer  nice  talk  and  philan- 
derin'  after  we  've  settled  whar  we  are,  whar 
we  're  goin',  and  what 's  goin'  to  happen. 
Jest  now  it  'pears  to  me  that  ez  these  yere 
logs  are  the  only  thing  betwixt  us  and 
*  kingdom  come,'  ye  'd  better  be  hustlin' 
round  with  a  few  spikes  to  clinch  'em  to  the 
floor." 

She  handed  him  a  hammer  and  a  few 
spikes.  He  obediently  set  to  work,  with 
little  confidence,  however,  in  the  security 
of  the  fastening.  There  was  neither  rope 
nor'  chain  for  lashing  the  logs  together ;  a 
stronger  current  and  a  collision  with  some 


184  WHEN  THE  WATERS 

submerged  stump  or  wreckage  would  loosen 
them  and  wreck  the  cabin.  But  he  said 
nothing.  It  was  the  girl  who  broke  the 
silence. 

"  What 's  your  front  name  ?  " 

"  Miles." 

"  Miles,  —  that 's  a  funny  name.  I  reckon 
that 's  why  you  war  so  far  off  and  distant 
at  first." 

Mr.  Hemmingway  thought  this  very  witty, 
and  said  so.  "  But,"  he  added,  "  when  I 
was  a  little  nearer  a  moment  ago,  you 
stopped  me." 

"  But  you  was  moving  faster  than  the 
shanty  was.  I  reckon  you  don't  take  that 
gait  with  your  lady  friends  at  Sacramento  ! 
However,  you  kin  talk  now." 

"But  you  forget  I  don't  know  'where 
we  are,'  nor  '  what 's  going  to  happen.'  " 

"  But  /  do,"  she  said  quietly.  "  In  a 
couple  of  hours  we  '11  be  picked  up,  so  you  '11 
be  free  again." 

Something  in  the  confidence  of  her  man- 
ner made  him  go  to  the  door  again  and  look 
out.  There  was  scarcely  any  current  now, 
and  the  cabin  seemed  motionless.  Even  the 
wind,  which  might  have  acted  upon  it,  was 


WERE   UP  AT  JULES1  185 

wanting.  They  were  apparently  in  the 
same  position  as  before,  but  his  sounding- 
line  showed  that  the  water  was  slightly 
falling.  He  came  back  and  imparted  the 
fact  with  a  certain  confidence  born  of  her 
previous  praise  of  his  knowledge.  To  his 
surprise  she  only  laughed  and  said  lazily, 
"  We  '11  be  all  right,  and  you  '11  be  free,  hi 
about  two  hours." 

"  1  see  no  sign  of  it,"  he  said,  looking 
through  the  door  again. 

"  That 's  because  you  're  looking  in  the 
water  and  the  sky  and  the  mud  for  it,"  sha 
said,  with  a  laugh.  "  1  reckon  you  've  been 
trained  to  watch  them  things  a  heap  better 
than  to  study  the  folks  about  here." 

"  I  daresay  you  're  right,"  said  Hemming- 
way  cheerfully,  "  but  I  don't  clearly  see  what 
the  folks  about  here  have  to  do  with  our 
situation  just  now." 

"You'll  see,"  she  said,  with  a  smile  of 
mischievous  mystery.  "  All  the  same,"  she 
added,  with  a  sudden  and  dangerous  softness 
in  her  eyes,  "  I  ain't  sayin'  that  you  ain't 
kinder  right  neither." 

An  hour  ago  he  would  have  laughed  at 
the  thought  that  a  mere  look  and  sentence 


186  WHEN   THE   WATEES 

like  this  from  the  girl  could  have  made  his 
heart  beat.  "  Then  I  may  go  on  and 
talk?" 

She  smiled,  but  her  eyes  said,  "  Yes," 
plainly. 

He  turned  to  take  a  chair  near  her. 
Suddenly  the  cabin  trembled,  there  was  a 
sound  of  scraping,  a  bump,  and  then  the 
whole  structure  tilted  to  one  side  and  they 
were  both  thrown  violently  towards  the 
corner,  with  a  swift  inrush  of  water.  Hem- 
mingway  quickly  caught  the  girl  by  the 
waist ;  she  clung  to  him  instinctively,  yet 
still  laughing,  as  with  a  desperate  effort  he 
succeeded  in  dragging  her  to  the  upper  side 
of  the  slanting  cabin,  and  momentarily  re- 
storing its  equilibrium.  They  remained  for 
an  instant  breathless.  But  in  that  instant 
he  had  drawn  her  face  to  his  and  kissed 
her. 

She  disengaged  herself  gently  with  neither 
excitement  nor  emotion,  and  pointing  to  the 
open  door  said,  "  Look  there  ! " 

Two  of  the  logs  which  formed  the  founda- 
tion of  their  floor  were  quietly  floating  in 
the  water  before  the  cabin  !  The  submerged 
obstacle  or  snag  which  had  torn  them  from 


WERE   UP  AT  JULES1  187 

their  fastening  was  still  holding  the  cabin 
fast.  Hemmingway  saw  the  danger.  He 
ran  along  the  narrow  ledge  to  the  point  of 
contact  and  unhesitatingly  leaped  into  the 
icy  cold  water.  It  reached  his  armpits  be- 
fore his  feet  struck  the  obstacle, —  evidently 
a  stump  with  a  projecting  branch.  Bracing 
himself  against  it,  he  shoved  off  the  cabin. 
But  when  he  struck  out  to  follow  it,  he  found 
that  the  log  nearest  him  was  loose  and  his 
grasp  might  tear  it  away.  At  the  same 
moment,  however,  a  pink  calico  arm  fluttered 
above  his  head,  and  a  strong  grasp  seized  his 
coat  collar.  The  cabin  half  revolved  as  the 
girl  dragged  him  into  the  open  door. 

"You  bantam!"  she  said,  with  a  laugh, 
"  why  did  n't  you  let  me  do  that  ?  I  'm 
taller  than  you  !  But,"  she  added,  looking 
at  his  dripping  clothes  and  dragging  out  a 
blanket  from  the  corner,  "  I  could  n't  dry 
myself  as  quick  as  you  kin  !  "  To  her  sur- 
prise, however,  Hemmingway  tossed  the 
blanket  aside,  and  pointing  to  the  floor, 
which  was  already  filmed  with  water,  ran  to 
the  still  warm  stove,  detached  it  from  its 
pipe,  and  threw  it  overboard.  The  sack  of 
flour,  bacon,  molasses,  and  sugar,  and  all 


188  WHEN  THE   WATERS 

the  heavier  articles  followed  it  into  the 
stream.  Relieved  of  their  weight  the  cabin 
base  rose  an  inch  or  two  higher.  Then 
he  sat  down  and  said,  "  There  !  that  may 
keep  us  afloat  for  that  '  couple  of  hours ' 
you  speak  of.  So  I  suppose  I  may  talk 
now !  " 

"  Ye  have  n't  no  time,"  she  said,  in  a 
graver  voice.  "  It  won't  be  as  long  as  a 
couple  of  hours  now.  Look  over  thar !  " 

He  looked  where  she  pointed  across  the 
gray  expanse  of  water.  At  first  he  could 
see  nothing.  Presently  he  saw  a  mere  dot 
on  its  face  which  at  times  changed  to  a 
single  black  line. 

"  It 's  a  log,  like  these,"  he  said. 

"  It 's  no  log.  It 's  an  Injun  dug-out 1  — 
comin'  for  me." 

"  Your  father  ?  "  he  said  joyfully. 

She  smiled  pityingly.  "  It 's  Tom  Flynn. 
Father 's  got  suthin'  else  to  look  arter.  Tom 
Flynn  has  n't." 

"  And  who  's  Tom  Flynn  ?  "  he  asked, 
with  an  odd  sensation. 

"The  man  I'm  engaged  to,"  she  said 
gravely,  with  a  slight  color. 

1  A  canoe  made  from  a  hollowed  log. 


WEEE  UP  AT  JULES'  189 

The  rose  that  blossomed  on  her  cheek 
faded  in  his.  There  was  a  moment  of 
silence.  Then  he  said  frankly,  "  I  owe  you 
some  apology.  Forgive  my  folly  and  im- 
pertinence a  moment  ago.  How  could  I 
have  known  this  ?  " 

"  You  took  no  more  than  you  deserved,  or 
that  Tom  would  have  objected  to,"  she  said, 
with  a  little  laugh.  "  You  've  been  mighty 
kind  and  handy." 

She  held  out  her  hand ;  their  fingers 
closed  together  in  a  frank  pressure.  Then 
his  mind  went  back  to  his  work,  which  he 
had  forgotten,  —  to  his  first  impressions  of 
the  camp  and  of  her.  They  both  stood 
silent,  watching  the  canoe,  now  quite  visible, 
and  the  man  that  was  paddling  it,  with  an 
intensity  that  both  felt  was  insincere. 

"  I  'm  afraid,"  he  said,  with  a  forced 
laugh,  "  that  I  was  a  little  too  hasty  in  dis- 
posing of  your  goods  and  possessions.  "We 
could  have  kept  afloat  a  little  longer." 

"  It 's  all  the  same,"  she  said,  with  a 
slight  laugh ;  "  it 's  jest  as  well  we  did  n't 
look  too  comf 'ble  —  to  him." 

He  did  not  reply ;  he  did  not  dare  to  look 
at  her.  Yes  !  It  was  the  same  coquette  he 


190  WHEN   THE   WATERS 

had  seen  last  night.  His  first  impressions 
were  correct. 

The  canoe  came  on  rapidly  now,  propelled 
by  a  powerful  arm.  In  a  few  moments 
it  was  alongside,  and  its  owner  leaped  on 
the  platform.  It  was  the  gentleman  with 
his  trousers  tucked  in  his  boots,  the  second 
voice  in  the  gloomy  discussion  in  the  general 
store  last  evening.  He  nodded  simply  to 
the  girl,  and  shook  Hemmingway's  hand 
warmly. 

Then  he  made  a  hurried  apology  for  his 
delay :  it  was  so  difficult  to  find  "  the  lay  " 
of  the  drifted  cabin.  He  had  struck  out 
first  for  the  most  dangerous  spot,  —  the  "  old 
clearing,"  on  the  right  bank,  with  its  stumps 
and  new  growths,  —  and  it  seemed  he  was 
right.  And  all  the  rest  were  safe,  and 
"  nobody  was  hurt." 

"  All  the  same,  Tom,"  she  said,  when 
they  were  seated  and  paddling  off  again, 
"  you  don't  know  how  near  you  came  to  los- 
ing me."  Then  she  raised  her  beautiful 
eyes  and  looked  significantly,  not  at  him, 
but  at  Hemmingway. 

When  the  water  was  down  at  "  Jules'  " 
the  next  day,  they  found  certain  curious 


WERE  UP  AT  JULES'  191 

changes  and  some  gold,  and  the  secretary 
was  able  to  make  a  favorable  report.  But 
he  made  none  whatever  of  his  impressions 
"  when  the  water  was  up  at  '  Jules', '  " 
though  he  often  wondered  if  they  were 
strictly  trustworthy. 


THE  BOOM  IN  THE  «  CALAVERAS 
CLAEION" 

THE  editorial  sanctum  of  the  "  Calaveras 
Clarion "  opened  upon  the  "  composing- 
room"  of  that  paper  on  the  one  side,  and 
gave  apparently  upon  the  rest  of  Calaveras 
County  upon  the,  other.  For,  situated  on 
the  very  outskirts  of  the  settlement  and  the 
summit  of  a  very  steep  hill,  the  pines  sloped 
away  from  the  editorial  windows  to  the  long 
valley  of  the  South  Fork  and  —  infinity. 
The  little  wooden  building  had  invaded 
Nature  without  subduing  it.  It  was  filled 
night  and  day  with  the  murmur  of  pines  and 
their  fragrance.  Squirrels  scampered  over 
its  roof  when  it  was  not  preoccupied  by 
woodpeckers,  and  a  printer's  devil  had  once 
seen  a  nest-building  blue  jay  enter  the  com- 
posing window,  flutter  before  one  of  the 
slanting  type-cases  with  an  air  of  deliberate 
selection,  and  then  fly  off  with  a  vowel  in  its 
bill. 

Amidst    these    sylvan    surroundings   the 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLAEION         193 

temporary  editor  of  the  "  Clarion  "  sat  at  his 
sanctum,  reading  the  proofs  of  an  editorial. 
As  he  was  occupying  that  position  during  a 
six  weeks'  absence  of  the  bona  fide  editor 
and  proprietor,  he  was  consequently  reading 
the  proof  with  some  anxiety  and  responsibil- 
ity. It  had  been  suggested  to  him  by  certain 
citizens  that  the  "  Clarion  "  needed  a  firmer 
and  more  aggressive  policy  towards  the 
Bill  before  the  Legislature  for  the  wagon 
road  to  the  South  Fork.  Several  Assem- 
bly men  had  been  "  got  at "  by  the  rival 
settlement  of  Liberty  Hill,  and  a  scathing 
exposure  and  denunciation  of  such  methods 
was  necessary.  The  interests  of  their  own 
township  were  also  to  be  "whooped  up." 
All  this  had  been  vigorously  explained  to 
him,  and  he  had  grasped  the  spirit,  if  not 
always  the  facts,  of  his  informants.  It  is 
to  be  feared,  therefore,  that  he  was  perus- 
ing his  article  more  with  reference  to  its 
vigor  than  his  own  convictions.  And  yet 
he  was  not  so  greatly  absorbed  as  to  be 
unmindful  of  the  murmur  of  the  pines 
without,  his  half-savage  environment,  and 
the  lazy  talk  of  his  sole  companions,  —  the 
foreman  and  printer  in  the  adjoining  room. 


194         THE  CALAVERAS  CLAEION 

"  Bet  your  life  !  I  've  always  said  that  a 
man  inside  a  newspaper  office  could  hold 
his  own  agin  any  outsider  that  wanted  to 
play  rough  or  tried  to  raid  the  office  !  Thar  's 
the  press,  and  thar  's  the  printin'  ink  and 
roller  !  Folks  talk  a  heap  o'  the  power  o' 
the  Press !  —  I  tell  ye,  ye  don't  half  know 
it.  Why,  when  old  Kernel  Fish  was  editin' 
the  '  Sierra  Banner,'  one  o'  them  bullies  that 
he  'd  lampooned  in  the  '  Banner '  fought  his 
way  past  the  Kernel  in  the  office,  into  the 
composin'-room,  to  wreck  everythin'  and 
1  pye '  all  the  types.  Spoffrel  —  ye  don't 
remember  Spoffrel  ?  —  little  red-haired  man  ? 
—  was  foreman.  Spoffrel  fended  him  off 
with  the  roller  and  got  one  good  dab  inter 
his  eyes  that  blinded  him,  and  then  Spoffrel 
sorter  skirmished  him  over  to  the  press,  — 
a  plain  lever  just  like  ours,  —  whar  the 
locked-up  form  of  the  inside  was  still 
a-lyin'  !  Then,  quick  as  lightnin',  Spoffrel 
tilts  him  over  agin  it,  and  he  throws  out  his 
hand  and  ketches  hold  o'  the  form  to  steady 
himself,  .when  Spoffrel  just  runs  the  form 
and  the  hand  under  the  press  and  down  with 
the  lever !  And  that  held  the  feller  fast  as 
grim  death !  And  when  at  last  he  begs  off, 


THE  CALAVEBAS  CLAEION         195 

and  Spoff  lets  him  loose,  the  hull  o'  that  'ere 
lampooning  article  he  objected  to  was 
printed  right  onto  the  skin  o'  his  hand ! 
Fact,  and  it  wouldn't  come  off,  either." 

"  Gosh,  but  I  'd  like  to  hev  seen  it," 
said  the  printer.  "  There  ain't  any  chance, 
I  reckon,  o'  such  a  sight  here.  The  boss 
don't  take  no  risks  lampoonin',  and  he  "  (the 
editor  knew  he  was  being  indicated  by  some 
unseen  gesture  of  the  unseen  workman) 
"  ain't  that  style." 

"  Ye  never  kin  tell,"  said  the  foreman 
didactically,  "  what  might  happen !  I  've 
known  editors  to  get  into  a  fight  jest  for  a 
little  innercent  bedevilin'  o'  the  opposite 
party.  Sometimes  for  a  misprint.  Old  man 
Pritchard  of  the  '  Argus '  oncet  had  a  hole 
blown  through  his  arm  because  his  proof- 
reader had  called  Colonel  Starbottle's  speech 
an  '  ignominious '  defense,  when  the  old 
man  hed  written  '  ingenuous  '  defense." 

The  editor  paused  in  his  proof-reading. 
He  had  just  come  upon  the  sentence  :  "  We 
cannot  congratulate  Liberty  Hill  —  in  its 
superior  elevation  —  upon  the  ignominious 
silence  of  the  representative  of  all  Calaveras 
when  this  infamous  Bill  was  introduced." 


196          THE  CALAVERAS   CLARION 

lie  referred  to  his  copy.  Yes !  He  had 
certainly  written  "  ignominious,"  —  that  was 
what  his  informants  had  suggested.  But 
was  he  sure  they  were  right?  He  had  a 
vague  recollection,  also,  that  the  representa- 
tive alluded  to  —  Senator  Bradley  —  had 
fought  two  duels,  and  was  a  "  good  "  though 
somewhat  impulsive  shot !  He  might  alter 
the  word  to  "  ingenuous  "  or  "  ingenious," 
either  would  be  finely  sarcastic,  but  then  — 
there'' was  his  foreman,  who  would  detect  it ! 
He  would  wait  until  he  had  finished  the  en- 
tire article.  In  that  occupation  he  became 
oblivious  of  the  next  room,  of  a  silence,  a 
whispered  conversation,  which  ended  with  a 
rapping  at  the  door  and  the  appearance  of 
the  foreman  in  the  doorway. 

"  There  'a  a  man  in  the  office  who  wants  to 
see  the  editor,"  he  said. 

"  Show  him  in,"  replied  the  editor  briefly. 
He  was,  however,  conscious  that  there  was  a 
singular  significance  in  his  foreman's  man- 
ner, and  an  eager  apparition  of  the  other 
printer  over  the  foreman's  shoulder. 

"  He  's  carryin'  a  shot-gun,  and  is  a  man 
twice  as  big  as  you  be,"  said  the  foreman 
gravely. 


THE  CALAVERA8  CLARION         197 

The  editor  quickly  recalled  his  own 
brief  and  as  yet  blameless  record  in  the 
"  Clarion."  "  Perhaps,"  he  said  tentatively, 
with  a  gentle  smile,  "  he  's  looking  for  Cap- 
tain Brush  "  (the  absent  editor). 

"  I  told  him  all  that,"  said  the  foreman 
grimly,  "  and  he  said  he  wanted  to  see  the 
man  in  charge." 

In  proportion  as  the  editor's  heart  sank 
his  outward  crest  arose.  "  Show  him  in," 
he  said  loftily. 

"  We  kin  keep  him  out,"  suggested  the 
foreman,  lingering  a  moment ;  "  me  and 
him,"  indicating  the  expectant  printer  be- 
hind him,  "  is  enough  for  that." 

«« Show  him  up,"  repeated  the  editor 
firmly. 

The  foreman  withdrew ;  the  editor  seated 
himself  and  again  took  up  his  proof.  The 
doubtful  word  "  ignominious "  seemed  to 
stand  out  of  the  paragraph  before  him ;  it 
certainly  was  a  strong  expression  !  He  was 
about  to  run  his  pencil  through  it  when  he 
heard  the  heavy  step  of  his  visitor  approach- 
ing. A  sudden  instinct  of  belligerency  took 
possession  of  him,  and  he  wrathfully  threw 
the  pencil  down. 


198          THE  CALAVEEAS  CLARION 

The  burly  form  of  the  stranger  blocked 
the  doorway.  He  was  dressed  like  a  miner, 
but  his  build  and  general  physiognomy  were 
quite  distinct  from  the  local  variety.  His 
upper  lip  and  chin  were  clean-shaven,  still 
showing  the  blue-black  roots  of  the  beard 
which  covered  the  rest  of  his  face  and 
depended  in  a  thick  fleece  under  his  throat. 
He  carried  a  small  bundle  tied  up  in  a  silk 
handkerchief  in  one  hand,  and  a  "  shot-gun  " 
in  the  other,  perilously  at  half-cock.  Enter- 
ing the  sanctum,  he  put  down  his  bundle 
and  quietly  closed  the  door  behind  him. 
He  then  drew  an  empty  chair  towards  him 
and  dropped  heavily  into  it  with  his  gun  on 
his  knees.  The  editor's  heart  dropped 
almost  as  heavily,  although  he  quite  com- 
posedly held  out  his  hand. 

"  Shall  I  relieve  you  of  your  gun  ?  " 

"  Thank  ye,  lad  —  noa.  It 's  moor  coom- 
fortable  wi'  me,  and  it's  main  dangersome 
to  handle  on  the  half-cock.  That 's  why  I 
did  n't  leave  'im  on  the  horse  outside  ! " 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  and  occasional 
accent  a  flash  of  intelligence  relieved  the 
editor's  mind.  He  remembered  that  twenty 
miles  away,  in  the  illimitable  vista  from  his 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLARION         199 

windows,  lay  a  settlement  of  English  north- 
country  miners,  who,  while  faithfully  adopt- 
ing the  methods,  customs,  and  even  slang 
of  the  Californians,  retained  many  of  their 
native  peculiarities.  The  gun  he  carried  on 
his  knee,  however,  was  evidently  part  of  the 
Californian  imitation. 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you  ?  "  said  the 
editor  blandly. 

"  Ay  !    I  've  coom  here  to  bill  ma  woif e." 

"I  —  don't  think  I  understand,"  hesi- 
tated the  editor,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  've  coom  here  to  get  ye  to  put  into 
your  paaper  a  warnin',  a  notiss,  that  onless 
she  returns  to  my  house  in  four  weeks,  I  '11 
have  nowt  to  do  wi'  her  again." 

"  Oh !  "  said  the  editor,  now  perfectly 
reassured,  "  you  want  an  advertisement  ? 
That 's  the  business  of  the  foreman ;  I  '11 
call  him."  He  was  rising  from  his  seat 
when  the  stranger  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  his 
shoulder  and  gently  forced  him  down  again. 

"  Noa,  lad  !  I  don't  want  noa  foreman 
nor  understrappers  to  take  this  job.  I  want 
to  talk  it  over  wi'  you.  Sabe  ?  My  woife 
she  bin  up  and  awaa  these  six  months.  We 
had  a  bit  of  difference,  that  ain't  here  nor 


200         THE  CALAVERAS  CLARION 

there,  but  she  skedaddled  outer  my  house. 
I  want  to  give  her  fair  warning,  and  let  her 
know  I  ain't  payin'  any  debts  o'  hers  arter 
this  notiss,  and  I  ain't  takin'  her  back  arter 
four  weeks  from  date." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  editor  glibly.  "  What 's 
your  wife's  name  ?  " 

"  Eliza  Jane  Dimmidge." 

"  Good,"  continued  the  editor,  scribbling 
on  the  paper  before  him ;  "  something  like 
this  will  do :  '  Whereas  my  wife,  Eliza  Jane 
Dimmidge,  having  left  my  bed  and  board 
without  just  cause  or  provocation,  this  is  to 
give  notice  that  I  shall  not  be  responsible 
for  any  debts  of  her  contracting  on  or  after 
this  date.'  " 

"  Ye  must  be  a  lawyer,"  said  Mr.  Dim- 
midge admiringly. 

It  was  an  old  enough  form  of  adver- 
tisement, and  the  remark  showed  incontest- 
ably  that  Mr.  Dimmidge  was  not  a  native ; 
but  the  editor  smiled  patronizingly  and  went 
on :  "  '  And  I  further  give  notice  that  if  she 
does  not  return  within  the  period  of  four 
weeks  from  this  date,  I  shall  take  such  pro- 
ceedings for  relief  as  the  law  affords.'  " 

"  Coom,  lad,  I  did  n't  say  that." 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLARION         201 

"But  you  said  you  wouldn't  take  her 
back." 

"  Ay." 

"  And  you  can't  prevent  her  without  legal 
proceedings.  She 's  your  wife.  But  you 
need  n't  take  proceedings,  you  know.  It 's 
only  a  warning." 

Mr.  Dimmidge  nodded  approvingly. 
"  That 's  so." 

"  You  '11  want  it  published  for  four  weeks, 
until  date  ?  "  asked  the  editor. 

"  Mebbe  longer,  lad." 

The  editor  wrote  "  till  forbid "  hi  the 
margin  of  the  paper  and  smiled. 

"  How  big  will  it  be  ?  "  said  Mr.  Dim- 
midge. 

The  editor  took  up  a  copy  of  the  "  Clarion  " 
and  indicated  about  an  inch  of  space.  Mr. 
Dimmidge's  face  fell. 

"  I  want  it  bigger,  —  in  large  letters,  like 
a  play-card,"  he  said.  "  That 's  no  good  for 
a  warning." 

"  You  can  have  half  a  column  or  a  whole 
column  if  you  like,"  said  the  editor  airily. 

"  I  '11  take  a  whole  one,"  said  Mr.  Dim- 
midge  simply. 

The  editor  laughed.  "Why!  it  would 
cost  you  a  hundred  dollars." 


202         THE  CALAVEBAS  CLARION 

"  I  '11  take  it,"  repeated  Mr.  Dimmidge. 

"But,"  said  the  editor  gravely,  "the 
same  notice  in  a  small  space  will  serve  your 
purpose  and  be  quite  legal." 

"  Never  you  mind  that,  lad !  It 's  the 
looks  of  the  thing  I  'm  arter,  and  not  the 
expense.  I  '11  take  that  column." 

The  editor  called  in  the  foreman  and 
showed  him  the  copy.  "  Can  you  display 
that  so  as  to  fill  a  column  ?  " 

The  foreman  grasped  the  situation 
prornptly.  It  would  be  big  business  for 
the  paper.  "Yes,"  he  said  meditatively, 
"  that  bold-faced  election  type  will  do  it." 

Mr.  Dimmidge's  face  brightened.  The 
expression  "  bold  -  faced "  pleased  him. 
"That's  it!  I  told  you.  I  want  to  bill 
her  in  a  portion  of  the  paper." 

"  I  might  put  in  a  cut,"  said  the  foreman 
suggestively ;  "  something  like  this."  He 
took  a  venerable  woodcut  from  the  case.  I 
grieve  to  say  it  was  one  which,  until  the 
middle  of  the  present  century,  was  common 
enough  in  the  newspaper  offices  in  the 
Southwest.  It  showed  the  running  figure 
of  a  negro  woman  carrying  her  persona] 
property  in  a  knotted  handkerchief  slung 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLAEION         203 

from  a  stick  over  her  shoulder,  and  was 
supposed  to  represent  "  a  fugitive  slave." 

Mr.  Dimmidge's  eyes  brightened.  "  I  '11 
take  that,  too.  It 's  a  little  dark-complected 
for  Mrs.  D.,  but  it  will  do.  Nowroon  away, 
lad,"  he  said  to  the  foreman,  as  he  quietly 
pushed  him  into  the  outer  office  again  and 
closed  the  door.  Then,  facing  the  surprised 
editor,  he  said,  "  Theer  's  another  notiss  I 
want  ye  to  put  in  your  paper ;  but  that 's 
atween  us.  Not  a  word  to  them"  he  indicated 
the  banished  foreman  with  a  jerk  of  his 
thumb.  "  Sabe  ?  I  want  you  to  put  this  in 
another  part  o'  your  paper,  quite  innocent- 
like,  ye  know."  He  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
gray  wallet,  and  taking  out  a  slip  of  paper 
read  from  it  gravely,  "  '  If  this  should  meet 
the  eye  of  E.  B.,  look  out  for  M.  J.  D.  He 
is  on  your  track.  When  this  you  see  write 
a  line  to  E.  J.  D.,  Elktown  Post  Office.'  I 
want  this  to  go  in  as  '  Personal  and  Private ' 
—  sdbe  ?  —  like  them  notisses  in  the  big 
'Frisco  papers." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  editor,  laying  it  aside. 
"  It  shall  go  in  the  same  issue  in  another 
column." 

Apparently  Mr.  Dimmidge  expected  some- 


204         THE  CALAVERAS  CLARION 

thing  more  than  this  reply,  for  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation  he  said  with  an  odd  smile  : 

"  Ye  ain't  seein'  the  meanin'  o'  that,  lad  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  editor  lightly  ;  "  but  I  sup- 
pose R.  B.  does,  and  it  is  n't  intended  that 
any  one  else  should." 

"Mebbe  it  is,  and  mebbe  it  isn't,"  said 
Mr.  Dimmidge,  with  a  self-satisfied  air.  "  I 
don't  mind  saying  atween  us  that  R.  B.  is 
the  man  as  I  've  suspicioned  as  havin'  some- 
thing to  do  with  my  wife  goin'  away  ;  and  ye 
see,  if  he  writes  to  E.  J.  D.  —  that 's  my 
wife's  initials  —  at  Elktown,  I'll  get  that 
letter  and  so  make  sure." 

"  But  suppose  your  wife  goes  there  first, 
or  sends  ?  " 

"  Then  I  '11  ketch  her  or  her  messenger. 
Ye  see?" 

The  editor  did  not  see  fit  to  oppose  any 
argument  to  this  phenomenal  simplicity,  and 
Mr.  Dimmidge,  after  settling  his  bill  with 
the  foreman,  and  enjoining  the  editor  to  the 
strictest  secrecy  regarding  the  origin  of  the 
"  personal  notice,"  took  up  his  gun  and  de- 
parted, leaving  the  treasury  of  the  "  Clarion  " 
unprecedentedly  enriched,  and  the  editor  to 
his  proofs. 


THE  CALAVEEAS   CLARION         205 

The  paper  duly  appeared  the  next  morn- 
ing with  the  column  advertisement,  the  per- 
sonal notice,  and  the  weighty  editorial  on  the 
wagon  road.  There  was  a  singular  demand 
for  the  paper,  the  edition  was  speedily  ex- 
hausted, and  the  editor  was  proportionately 
flattered,  although  he  was  surprised  to  re- 
ceive neither  praise  nor  criticism  from  his 
subscribers.  Before  evening,  however,  he 
learned  to  his  astonishment  that  the  excite- 
ment was  caused  by  the  column  advertise- 
ment. Nobody  knew  Mr.  Dimmidge,  nor 
his  domestic  infelicities,  and  the  editor  and 
foreman,  being  equally  in  the  dark,  took 
refuge  in  a  mysterious  and  impressive  eva- 
sion of  all  inquiry.  Never  since  the  last  San 
Francisco  Vigilance  Committee  had  the 
office  been  so  besieged.  The  editor,  fore- 
man, and  even  the  apprentice,  were  button- 
holed and  "  treated  "  at  the  bar,  but  to  no 
effect.  All  that  could  be  learned  was  that 
it  was  a  bonafide  advertisement,  for  which 
one  hundred  dollars  had  been  received! 
There  were  great  discussions  and  conflicting 
theories  as  to  whether  the  value  of  the  wife, 
or  the  husband's  anxiety  to  get  rid  of  her, 
justified  the  enormous  expense  and  ostenta- 


206          THE  CALAVERAS  CLARION 

tious  display.  She  was  supposed  to  be  an 
exceedingly  beautiful  woman  by  some,  by 
others  a  perfect  Sycorax  ;  in  one  breath  Mr. 
Dimmidge  was  a  weak,  uxorious  spouse, 
wasting  his  substance  on  a  creature  who  did 
not  care  for  him,  and  in  another  a  maddened, 
distracted,  henpecked  man,  content  to  pur- 
chase peace  and  rest  at  any  price.  Certainly, 
never  was  advertisement  more  effective  in  its 
publicity,  or  cheaper  in  proportion  to  the 
circulation  it  commanded.  It  was  copied 
throughout  the  whole  Pacific  slope  ;  mighty 
San  Francisco  papers  described  its  size  and 
setting  under  the  attractive  headline,  "  How 
they  Advertise  a  Wife  in  the  Mountains  !  " 
It  reappeared  in  the  Eastern  journals,  under 
the  title  of  "  Whimsicalities  of  the  Western 
Press."  It  was  believed  to  have  crossed  to 
England  as  a  specimen  of  "  Transatlantic 
Savagery."  The  real  editor  of  the  "  Clarion  " 
awoke  one  morning,  in  San  Francisco,  to 
find  his  paper  famous.  Its  advertising  col- 
umns were  eagerly  sought  for ;  he  at  once 
advanced  the  rates.  People  bought  succes- 
sive issues  to  gaze  upon  this  monumental 
record  of  extravagance.  A  singular  idea, 
which,  however,  brought  further  fortune  to 


THE  CALAVERAS  CLARION         207 

the  paper,  was  advanced  by  an  astute  critic 
at  the  Eureka  Saloon.  "  My  opinion,  gen- 
tlemen, is  that  the  whole  blamed  thing  is 
a  bluff !  There  ain't  no  Mr.  Dimmidge  ; 
there  ain't  no  Mrs.  Dimmidge  ;  there  ain't 
no  desertion  !  The  whole  rotten  thing  is  an 
advertisement  o'  suthin'  !  Ye  '11  find  afore 
ye  get  through  with  it  that  that  there  wife 
won't  come  back  until  that  blamed  husband 
buys  Somebody's  Soap,  or  treats  her  to 
Somebody's  particular  Starch  or  Patent 
Medicine  !  Ye  jest  watch  and  see !  "  The 
idea  was  startling,  and  seized  upon  the  mer- 
cantile mind.  The  principal  merchant  of 
the  town,  and  purveyor  to  the  mining  settle- 
ments beyond,  appeared  the  next  morning  at 
the  office  of  the  "  Clarion."  "  Ye  would  n't 
mind  puttin'  this  '  ad  '  in  a  column  along- 
side o'  the  Dimmidge  one,  would  ye  ?  "  The 
young  editor  glanced  at  it,  and  then,  with  a 
serpent-like  sagacity,  veiled,  however,  by  the 
suavity  of  the  dove,  pointed  out  that  the 
original  advertiser  might  think  it  called  his 
bonci  fides  into  question  and  withdraw  his 
advertisement.  "  But  if  we  secured  you  by 
an  offer  of  double  the  amount  per  column  ?  " 
urged  the  merchant.  "  That,"  responded  the 


208          THE  CALAVERAS  CLARION 

locum  tenens,  "  was  for  the  actual  editor  and 
proprietor  in  San  Francisco  to  determine. 
He  would  telegraph."  He  did  so.  The  re- 
sponse was,  "  Put  it  in."  Whereupon  in  the 
next  issue,  side  by  side  with  Mr.  Dimmidge's 
protracted  warning,  appeared  a  column  with 
the  announcement,  in  large  letters,  "  WE 
HAVE  N'T  LOST  ANY  WIFE,  but  WE  are 
prepared  to  furnish  the  following  goods  at  a 
lower  rate  than  any  other  advertiser  in  the 
county,"  followed  by  the  usual  price  list  of 
the  merchant's  wares.  There  was  an  unpre- 
cedented demand  for  that  issue.  The  repu- 
tation of  the  "  Clarion,"  both  a,s  a  shrewd 
advertising  medium  and  a  comic  paper, 
was  established  at  once.  For  a  few  days 
the  editor  waited  with  some  apprehension  for 
a  remonstrance  from  the  absent  Dimmidge, 
but  none  came.  Whether  Mr.  Dimmidge 
recognized  that  this  new  advertisement  gave 
extra  publicity  to  his  own,  or  that  he  was 
already  on  the  track  of  the  fugitive,  the  ed- 
itor did  not  know.  The  few  curious  citizens 
who  had,  early  in  the  excitement,  penetrated 
the  settlement  of  the  English  miners  twenty 
miles  away  in  search  of  information,  found 
that  Mr.  Dimmidge  had  gone  away,  and  that 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLARION         209 

Mrs.  Dimmidge  had  never  resided  there  with 
him ! 

Six  weeks  passed.  The  limit  of  Mr.  Dim- 
midge's  advertisement  had  been  reached,  and, 
as  it  was  not  renewed,  it  had  passed  out  of 
the  pages  of  the  "  Clarion,"  and  with  it  the 
merchant's  advertisement  in  the  next  column. 
The  excitement  had  subsided,  although  its 
influence  was  still  felt  in  the  circulation  of 
the  paper  and  its  advertising  popularity. 
The  temporary  editor  was  also  nearing  the 
limit  of  his  incumbency,  but  had  so  far  par- 
ticipated in  the  good  fortune  of  the  "  Clar- 
ion "  as  to  receive  an  offer  from  one  of  the 
San  Francisco  dailies. 

It  was  a  warm  night,  and  he  was  alone  in 
his  sanctum.  The  rest  of  the  building  was 
dark  and  deserted,  and  his  solitary  light, 
flashing  out  through  the  open  window,  fell 
upon  the  nearer  pines  and  was  lost  in  the 
dark,  indefinable  slope  below.  He  had 
reached  the  sanctum  by  the  rear,  and  a  door 
which  he  also  left  open  to  enjoy  the  freshness 
of  the  aromatic  air.  Nor  did  it  in  the  least 
mar  his  privacy.  Rather  the  solitude  of  the 
great  woods  without  seemed  to  enter  through 
that  door  and  encompassed  him  with  its  pro- 


210          THE  CALAVEEAS  CLARION 

tecting  loneliness.  There  was  occasionally 
a  faint  "  peep  "  in  the  scant  eaves,  or  a  "  pat- 
pat,"  ending  in  a  frightened  scurry  across 
the  roof,  or  the  slow  flap  of  a  heavy  wing  in 
the  darkness  below.  These  gentle  disturb- 
ances did  not,  however,  interrupt  his  work 
on  "The  True  Functions  of  the  County 
Newspaper,"  the  editorial  on  which  he  was 


Presently  a  more  distinct  rustling  against 
the  straggling  blackberry  bushes  beside  the 
door  attracted  his  attention.  It  was  followed 
by  a  light  tapping  against  the  side  of  the 
house.  The  editor  started  and  turned  quickly 
towards  the  open  door.  Two  outside  steps 
led  to  the  ground.  Standing  upon  the  lower 
one  was  a  woman.  The  upper  part  of  her 
figure,  illuminated  by  the  light  from  the  door, 
was  thrown  into  greater  relief  by  the  dark 
background  of  the  pines.  Her  face  was 
unknown  to  him,  but  it  was  a  pleasant  one, 
marked  by  a  certain  good-humored  determi- 
nation. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  she  said  confidently. 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  editor.  "  I  am 
working  here  alone  because  it  is  so  quiet." 
He  thought  he  would  precipitate  some  expla- 
nation from  her  by  excusing  himself. 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLARION         211 

«'  That 's  the  reason  why  I  came,"  she  said, 
with  a  quiet  smile. 

She  came  up  the  next  step  and  entered  the 
room.  She  was  plainly  but  neatly  dressed, 
and  now  that  her  figure  was  revealed  he 
saw  that  she  was  wearing  a  linsey-woolsey 
riding-skirt,  and  carried  a  serviceable  raw- 
hide whip  in  her  cotton-gauntleted  hand. 
She  took  the  chair  he  offered  her  arid  sat 
down  sideways  on  it,  her  whip  hand  now 
also  holding  up  her  skirt,  and  permitting  a 
hem  of  clean  white  petticoat  and  a  smart, 
well-shaped  boot  to  be  seen. 

"  I  don't  remember  to  have  had  the  plea- 
sure of  seeing  you  in  Calaveras  before,"  said 
the  editor  tentatively. 

"  No.  I  never  was  here  before,"  she  said 
composedly,  "  but  you  've  heard  enough  of 
me,  I  reckon.  I  'm  Mrs.  Dimmidge."  She 
threw  one  hand  over  the  back  of  the  chair, 
and  wjth  the  other  tapped  her  riding-whip 
on  the  floor. 

The  editor  started.  Mrs.  Dimmidge ! 
Then  she  was  not  a  myth.  An  absurd  sim- 
ilarity between  her  attitude  with  the  whip 
and  her  husband's  entrance  with  his  gun  six 
weeks  before  forced  itself  upon  him  and 
made  her  an  invincible  presence. 


212          THE  CALAVEEAS  CLAEION 

"Then  you  have  returned  to  your  hus- 
band ?  "  he  said  hesitatingly. 

"  Not  much !  "  she  returned,  with  a  slight 
curl  of  her  lip. 

"  But  you  read  his  advertisement  ?  " 

"  I  saw  that  column  of  fool  nonsense  he 
put  in  your  paper  —  ef  that's  what  you 
mean,"  she  said  with  decision,  "but  I  did  n't 
come  here  to  see  him  —  but  you." 

The  editor  looked  at  her  with  a  forced 
smile,  but  a  vague  misgiving.  He  was  alone 
at  night  in  a  deserted  part  of  the  settlement, 
with  a  plump,  self-possessed  woman  who  had 
a  contralto  voice,  a  horsewhip,  and  —  he 
could  not  help  feeling  —  an  evident  griev- 
ance. 

"  To  see  me  ? "  he  repeated,  with  a  faint 
attempt  at  gallantry.  "  You  are  paying  me 
a  great  compliment,  but  really  "  — 

"  When  I  tell  you  I  've  come  three  thou- 
sand miles  from  Kansas  straight  here  without 
stopping,  ye  kin  reckon  it 's  so,"  she  replied 
firmly. 

"  Three  thousand  miles !  "  echoed  the 
editor  wonderingly. 

"  Yes.  Three  thousand  miles  from  my 
own  folks'  home  in  Kansas,  where  six  years 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLARION        213 

ago  I  married  Mr.  Dimmidge,  —  a  British 
furriner  as  could  scarcely  make  himself  un- 
derstood in  any  Christian  language  !  Well, 
he  got  round  me  and  dad,  allowin'  he  was  a 
reg'lar  out-and-out  prof eshnal  miner,  —  had 
lived  in  mines  ever  since  he  was  a  boy ;  and 
so,  not  knowin'  what  kind  o'  mines,  and  dad 
just  bilin'  over  with  the  gold  fever,  we  were 
married  and  kem  across  the  plains  to  Cali- 
forny.  He  was  a  good  enough  man  to  look 
at,  but  it  warn't  three  months  before  I  dis- 
covered that  he  allowed  a  wife  was  no  better 
nor  a  nigger  slave,  and  he  the  master.  That 
made  me  open  my  eyes ;  but  then,  as  he 
did  n't  drink,  and  did  n't  gamble,  and  did  n't 
swear,  and  was  a  good  provider  and  laid  by 
money,  why  I  shifted  along  with  him  as  best 
I  could.  We  drifted  down  the  first  year  to 
Sonora,  at  Red  Dog,  where  there  was  n't 
another  woman.  Well,  I  did  the  nigger 
slave  business,  —  never  stirring  out  o'  the 
settlement,  never  seem'  a  town  or  a  crowd 
o'  decent  people,  —  and  he  did  the  lord  and 
master !  We  played  that  game  for  two 
years,  and  I  got  tired.  But  when  at  last  he 
allowed  he  'd  go  up  to  Elktown  Hill,  where 
there  was  a  passel  o'  his  countrymen  at  work, 


214          THE  CALAVERAS  CLARION 

with  never  a  sign  o'  any  other  folks,  and 
leave  me  alone  at  Red  Dog  until  he  fixed  up 
a  place  for  me  at  Elktown  Hill,  —  I  kicked  ! 
I  gave  him  fair  warning  !  I  did  as  other 
nigger  slaves  did,  —  I  ran  away !  " 

A  recollection  of  the  wretched  woodcut 
which  Mr.  Dimmidge  had  selected  to  per- 
sonify his  wife  flashed  upon  the  editor  with  a 
new  meaning.  Yet  perhaps  she  had  not  seen 
it,  and  had  only  read  a  copy  of  the  advertise- 
ment. What  could  she  want  ?  The  "  Ca- 
laveras  Clarion,"  although  a  "  Palladium " 
and  a  "  Sentinel  upon  thevHeights  of  Free- 
dom "  in  reference  to  wagon  roads,  was  not 
a  redresser  of  domestic  wrongs,  —  except 
through  its  advertising  columns  !  Her  next 
words  intensified  that  suggestion. 

"  I  've  come  here  to  put  an  advertisement 
in  your  paper." 

The  editor  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief,  as 
once  before.  "  Certainly,"  he  said  briskly. 
"  But  that 's  another  department  of  the 
paper,  and  the  printers  have  gone  home. 
Come  to-morrow  morning  early." 

"  To-morrow  morning  I  shall  be  miles 
away,"  she  said  decisively,  "  and  what  I 
want  done  has  got  to  be  done  now  !  I  don't 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLAE1ON         215 

want  to  see  no  printers ;  I  don't  want  any- 
body to  know  I  've  been  here  but  you. 
That 's  why  I  kern  here  at  night,  and  rode 
all  the  way  from  Sawyer's  Station,  and 
wouldn't  take  the  stage-coach.  And  when 
we  've  settled  about  the  advertisement,  I  'm 
going  to  mount  my  horse,  out  thar  in  the 
bushes,  and  scoot  outer  the  settlement." 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  editor  resignedly. 
"  Of  course  I  can  deliver  your  instructions 
to  the  foreman.  And  now  —  let  me  see  — 
I  suppose  you  wish  to  intimate  in  a  personal 
notice  to  your  husband  that  you  've  re- 
turned." 

"  Nothin'  o'  the  kind  !  "  said  Mrs.  Dim- 
midge  coolly.  "  I  want  to  placard  him  as 
he  did  me.  I  've  got  it  all  written  out  here. 
Sabe  ?  " 

She  took  from  her  pocket  a  folded  paper, 
and  spreading  it  out  on  the  editor's  desk, 
with  a  certain  pride  of  authorship  read  as 
follows:- 

"  Whereas  my  husband,  Micah  J.  Dim- 
midge,  having  given  out  that  I  have  left  his 
bed  and  board,  —  the  same  being  a  bunk 
in  a  log  cabin  and  pork  and  molasses  three 
times  a  day,  —  and  having  advertised  that 


216          THE  CALAVERAS  CLAPTON 

he  'd  pay  no  debts  of  my  contractin',  —  which, 
as  thar  ain't  any,  might  be  easier  collected 
than  debts  of  his  own  contractin',  —  this  is 
to  certify  that  unless  he  returns  from  Elk- 
town  Hill  to  his  only  home  in  Sonora  in  one 
week  from  date,  payin'  the  cost  of  this  adver- 
tisement, I  '11  know  the  reason  why.  —  Eliza 
Jane  Dimmidge." 

"  Thar,"  she  added,  drawing  a  long  breath, 
"put  that  in  a  column  of  the  'Clarion,' 
same  size  as  the  last,  and  let  it  work,  and 
that 's  all  I  want  of  you." 

"  A  column  ?  "  repeated  the  editor.  "  Do 
you  know  the  cost  is  very  expensive,  and  I 
could  put  it  in  a  single  paragraph  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  I  kin  pay  the  same  as  Mr. 
Dimmidge  did  for  his"  said  the  lady  com- 
placently. "  I  did  n't  see  your  paper  my- 
self, but  the  paper  as  copied  it  —  one  of 
them  big  New  York  dailies  —  said  that  it 
took  up  a  whole  column." 

The  editor  breathed  more  freely ;  she  had 
not  seen  the  infamous  woodcut  which  her 
husband  had  selected.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment he  was  struck  with  a  sense  of  retribu- 
tion, justice,  and  compensation. 

"Would  you,"  he  asked  hesitatingly, — 
"  would  you  like  it  illustrated  —  by  a  cut  ?  " 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLAEION         217 

"With  which?" 

"  Wait  a  moment ;  I  '11  show  you." 

He  went  into  the  dark  composing-room, 
lit  a  candle,  and  rummaging  in  a  drawer 
sacred  to  weather-beaten,  old-fashioned  elec- 
trotyped  advertising  symbols  of  various 
trades,  finally  selected  one  and  brought  it 
to  Mrs.  Dimmidge.  It  represented  a  bare 
and  exceedingly  stalwart  arm  wielding  a 
large  hammer. 

"  Your  husband  being  a  miner,  —  a  quartz 
miner,  —  would  that  do  ?  "  he  asked.  (It 
had  been  previously  used  to  advertise  a 
blacksmith,  a  gold-beater,  and  a  stone-ma- 
son.) 

The  lady  examined  it  critically. 

"  It  does  look  a  little  like  Micah's  arm," 
she  said  meditatively.  "  Well  —  you  kin 
put  it  in." 

The  editor  was  so  well  pleased  with  his 
success  that  he  must  needs  make  another 
suggestion.  "I  suppose,"  he  said  ingenu- 
ously, "  that  you  don't  want  to  answer  the 
'  Personal '  ?  " 

"  *  Personal '  ?  "    she    repeated    quickly, 

"  what 's  that  ?    I  ain't  seen  no  '  Personal.'  " 

The  editor  saw  his  blunder.    She,  of  course, 


218          THE  CALAVEEAS  CLARION 

had  never  seen  Mr.  Dimmidge's  artful  "  Per- 
sonal ; "  that  the  big  dailies  naturally  had 
not  noticed  nor  copied.  But  it  was  too 
late  to  withdraw  now.  He  brought  out  a 
file  of  the  "  Clarion,"  and  snipping  out  the 
paragraph  with  his  scissors,  laid  it  before 
the  lady. 

She  stared  at  it  with  wrinkled  brows  and 
a  darkening  face. 

"  And  this  was  in  the  same  paper  ?  —  put 
in  by  Mr.  Dimmidge  ?  "  she  asked  breath- 
lessly. 

The  editor,  somewhat  alarmed,  stammered 
"  Yes."  But  the  next  moment  he  was  re- 
assured. The  wrinkles  disappeared,  a  dozen 
dimples  broke  out  where  they  had  been,  and 
the  determined,  matter-of-fact  Mrs.  Dim- 
midge  burst  into  a  fit  of  rosy  merriment. 
Again  and  again  she  laughed,  shaking  the 
building,  startling  the  sedate,  melancholy 
woods  beyond,  until  the  editor  himself 
laughed  in  sheer  vacant  sympathy. 

"  Lordy !  "  she  said  at  last,  gasping,  and 
wiping  the  laughter  from  her  wet  eyes.  "  I 
never  thought  of  that." 

"  No,"  explained  the  editor  smilingly ; 
"  of  course  you  did  n't.  Don't  you  see,  the 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLARION         219 

papers  that  copied  the  big  advertisement 
never  saw  that  little  paragraph,  or  if  they 
did,  they  never  connected  the  two  together.  " 

"  Oh,  it  ain't  that,"  said  Mrs.  Dimmidge, 
trying  to  regain  her  composure  and  holding 
her  sides.  "  It 's  that  blessed  dear  old  dun- 
derhead of  a  Dimmidge  I  'm  thinking  of. 
That  gets  me.  I  see  it  all  now.  Only,  sakes 
alive !  I  never  thought  that  of  him.  Oh,  it 's 
just  too  much !  "  and  she  again  relapsed  be- 
hind her  handkerchief. 

"  Then  I  suppose  you  don't  want  to  reply 
to  it,"  said  the  editor. 

Her  laughter  instantly  ceased.  "  Don't 
I  ?  "  she  said,  wiping  her  face  into  its  pre- 
vious complacent  determination.  "  Well, 
young  man,  I  reckon  that 's  just  what  I 
want  to  do  !  Now,  wait  a  moment ;  let 's 
see  what  he  said,"  she  went  on,  taking  up 
and  reperusing  the  "  Personal  "  paragraph. 
"  Well,  then,"  she  went  on,  after  a  moment's 
silent  composition  with  moving  lips,  "you 
just  put  these  lines  in." 

The  editor  took  up  his  pencil. 

"  To  Mr.  J.  D.  Dimmidge.  —  Hope  you  're 
still  on  R.  B.'s  tracks.  Keep  there !  — 
E.  J.  D." 


220          THE  CALAVERAS  CLARION 

The  editor  wrote  down  the  line,  and 
then,  remembering  Mr.  Dimmidge's  volun- 
tary explanation  of  his  "  Personal,"  waited 
with  some  confidence  for  a  like  frankness 
from  Mrs.  Dimmidge.  But  he  was  mis- 
taken. 

"You  think  that  he  —  R.  B. — or  Mr. 
Dimmidge  —  will  understand  this?"  he  at 
last  asked  tentatively.  "  Is  it  enough  ?  " 

"  Quite  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Dimmidge  em- 
phatically. She  took  a  roll  of  greenbacks 
from  her  pocket,  selected  a  hundred-dollar 
bill  and  then  a  five,  and  laid  them  before 
the  editor.  "  Young  man,"  she  said,  with  a 
certain  demure  gravity,  "  you  've  done  me  a 
heap  o'  good.  I  never  spent  money  with  more 
satisfaction  than  this.  I  never  thought 
much  o'  the  '  power  o'  the  Press,'  as  you  call 
it,  afore.  But  this  has  been  a  right  com- 
fortable visit,  and  I  'm  glad  I  ketched  you 
alone.  But  you  understand  one  thing :  this 
yer  visit,  and  who  I  am,  is  betwixt  you  and 
me  only." 

"  Of  course  I  must  say  that  the  adver- 
tisement was  authorized,"  returned  the 
editor.  "  I  'm  only  the  temporary  editor. 
The  proprietor  is  away." 


THE  CALAVERAS  CLARION         221 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  the  lady  com- 
placently. "  You  just  say  you  found  it  on 
your  desk  with  the  money ;  but  don't  you 
give  me  away." 

"I  can  promise  you  that  the  secret  of 
your  personal  visit  is  safe  with  me,"  said  the 
young  man,  with  a  bow,  as  Mrs.  Dimmidge 
rose.  "  Let  me  see  you  to  your  horse,"  he 
added.  "  It 's  quite  dark  in  the  woods." 

"  I  can  see  well  enough  alone,  and  it 's 
just  as  well  you  should  n't  know  how  I 
kern  or  how  I  went  away.  Enough  for  you 
to  know  that  I  '11  be  miles  away  before  that 
paper  comes  out.  So  stay  where  you  are." 

She  pressed  his  hand  frankly  and  firmly, 
gathered  up  her  riding-skirt,  slipped  back- 
wards to  the  door,  and  the  next  moment 
rustled  away  into  the  darkness. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  editor  handed 
Mrs.  Dimmidge's  advertisement,  and  the 
woodcut  he  had  selected,  to  his  foreman. 
He  was  purposely  brief  in  his  directions, 
so  as  to  avoid  inquiry,  and  retired  to  his 
sanctum.  In  the  space  of  a  few  moments 
the  foreman  entered  with  a  slight  embarrass- 
ment of  manner. 

"  You  '11  excuse  my  speaking  to  you,  sir," 


222          THE  CALAVERAS   CLARION 

he  said,  with  a  singular  mixture  of  humility 
and  cunning.  "  It 's  no  business  of  mine, 
I  know ;  but  I  thought  I  ought  to  tell  you 
that  this  yer  kind  o'  thing  won't  pay  any 
more,  —  it 's  about  played  out !  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  understand  you,"  said 
the  editor  loftily,  but  with  an  inward  mis- 
giving. "  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  a 
regular,  actual  advertisement  " — 

"  Of  course,  I  know  all  that,"  said  the 
foreman,  with  a  peculiar  smile ;  "  and  I  'm 
ready  to  back  you  up  in  it,  and  so  's  the  boy ; 
but  it  won't  pay." 

"  It  has  paid  a  hundred  and  five  dollars," 
said  the  editor,  taking  the  notes  from  his 
pocket ;  "  so  I  'd  advise  you  to  simply  at- 
tend to  your  duty  and  set  it  up." 

A  look  of  surprise,  followed,  however,  by 
a  kind  of  pitying  smile,  passed  over  the 
foreman's  face.  "  Of  course,  sir,  that 's  all 
right,  and  you  know  your  own  business  ;  but 
if  you  think  that  the  new  advertisement  will 
pay  this  time  as  the  other  one  did,  and 
whoop  up  another  column  from  an  adver- 
tiser, I  'm  afraid  you  '11  slip  up.  It 's  a 
little  '  off  color  '  now,  —  not  '  up  to  date,'  — 
if  it  ain't  a  regular  'back  number,'  as 
you  '11  see." 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLARION         223 

"  Meantime  I  '11  dispense  with  your  ad- 
vice," said  the  editor  curtly,  "  and  I  think 
you  had  better  let  our  subscribers  and  ad- 
vertisers do  the  same,  or  the  *  Clarion ' 
might  also  be  obliged  to  dispense  with  your 
services." 

"  I  ain't  no  blab,"  said  the  foreman,  in  an 
aggrieved  manner,  "  and  I  don't  intend  to 
give  the  show  away  even  if  it  don't  pay. 
But  I  thought  I  'd  tell  you,  because  I  know 
the  folks  round  here  better  than  you  do." 

He  was  right.  No  sooner  had  the  adver- 
tisement appeared  than  the  editor  found  that 
everybody  believed  it  to  be  a  sheer  inven- 
tion of  his  own  to  "  once  more  boom  "  the 
"  Clarion."  If  they  had  doubted  Mr.  Dim- 
midge,  they  utterly  rejected  Mrs.  Dimmidge 
as  an  advertiser !  It  was  a  stale  joke  that 
nobody  would  follow  up ;  and  on  the  heels 
of  this  came  a  letter  from  the  editor-in-chief. 

MY  DEAR  BOY,  —  You  meant  well,  I 
know,  but  the  second  Dimmidge  "  ad  "  was 
a  mistake.  Still,  it  was  a  big  bluff  of  yours 
to  show  the  money,  and  I  send  you  back 
your  hundred  dollars,  hoping  you  won't 
"  do  it  again."  Of  course  you  '11  have  to 


224          THE  CALAVEBAS  CLAEION 

keep  the  advertisement  in  the  paper  for  two 
issues,  just  as  if  it  were  a  real  thing,  and 
it 's  lucky  that  there  's  just  now  no  pressure 
in  our  columns.  You  might  have  told  a 
better  story  than  that  hogwash  about  your 
finding  the  "  ad  "  and  a  hundred  dollars  lying 
loose  on  your  desk  one  morning.  It  was 
rather  thin,  and  I  don't  wonder  the  fore- 
man kicked. 

The  young  editor  was  in  despair.  At 
first  he  thought  of  writing  to  Mrs.  Dim- 
midge  at  the  Elktown  Post-Office,  asking 
her  to  relieve  him  of  his  vow  of  secrecy; 
but  his  pride  forbade.  There  was  a  humor- 
ous concern,  not  without  a  touch  of  pity,  in 
the  faces  of  his  contributors  as  he  passed ; 
a  few  affected  to  believe  in  the  new  adver- 
tisement, and  asked  him  vague,  perfunctory 
questions  about  it.  His  position  was  trying, 
and  he  was  not  sorry  when  the  term  of  his 
engagement  expired  the  next  week,  and  he 
left  Calaveras  to  take  his  new  position  on 
the  San  Francisco  paper. 

He  was  standing  in  the  saloon  of  the 
Sacramento  boat  when  he  felt  a  sudden 
heavy  pressure  on  his  shoulder,  and  looking 


THE  CALAVEEAS  CLAEION         225 

round  sharply,  beheld  not  only  the  black- 
bearded  face  of  Mr.  Dimmidge,  lit  up  by 
a  smile,  but  beside  it  the  beaming,  buxom 
face  of  Mrs.  Dimmidge,  overflowing  with 
good-humor.  Still  a  little  sore  from  his  past 
experience,  he  was  about  to  address  them 
abruptly,  when  he  was  utterly  vanquished 
by  the  hearty  pressure  of  their  hands  and 
the  unmistakable  look  of  gratitude  in  their 
eyes. 

"  I  was  just  saying  to  'Lizy  Jane,"  began 
Mr.  Dimmidge  breathlessly,  "  if  I  could  only 
meet  that  young  man  o'  the  '  Clarion  '  what 
brought  us  together  again  "  — 

"  You  'd  be  willin'  to  pay  four  times  the 
amount  we  both  paid  him,"  interpolated  the 
laughing  Mrs.  Dimmidge. 

"  But  I  did  n't  bring  you  together,"  burst 
out  the  dazed  young  man,  "  and  I  'd  like  to 
know,  in  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  brought 
you  together  now  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  see,  lad,"  said  the  imperturb- 
able Mr.  Dimmidge,  "  'Lizy  Jane  and  my- 
self had  qua'lled,  and  we  just  unpacked  our 
fool  nonsense  in  your  paper  and  let  the  hull 
world  know  it !  And  we  both  felt  kinder 
skeert  and  shamed  like,  and  it  looked  such 


226          THE  CALAVEEAS  CLAEION 

small  hogwash,  and  of  so  little  account,  for 
all  the  talk  it  made,  that  we  kinder  felt 
lonely  as  two  separated  fools  that  really 
ought  to  share  their  foolishness  together." 

"  And  that  ain't  all,"  said  Mrs.  Dimmidge, 
with  a  sly  glance  at  her  spouse,  "  for  I  found 
out  from  that  '  Personal '  you  showed  me 
that  this  particular  old  fool  was  actooally 
jealous  !  — jealous  !  " 

"  And  then  ?  "  said  the  editor  impatiently . 

"  And  then  I  knew  he  loved  me  all  the 
time." 


THE   SECRET  OF   SOBRIENTE'S 
WELL 

EVEN  to  the  eye  of  the  most  inexperienced 
traveler  there  was  no  doubt  that  Buena  Vista 
was  a  "  played-out "  mining  camp.  There, 
seamed  and  scarred  by  hydraulic  engines, 
was  the  old  hillside,  over  whose  denuded 
surface  the  grass  had  begun  to  spring  again 
in  fitful  patches  ;  there  were  the  abandoned 
heaps  of  tailings  already  blackened  by  sun 
and  rain,  and  worn  into  mounds  like  ruins, 
of  masonry;  there  were  the  waterless  ditchesv 
like  giant  graves,  and  the  pools  of  slumgulr 
lion,  now  dried  into  shining,  glazed  cement. 
There  were  two  or  three  wooden  "  stores," 
from  which  the  windows  and  doors  had  been 
taken  and  conveyed  to  the  newer  settlement: 
of  Wynyard's  Gulch.  Four  or  five  build- 
ings that  still  were  inhabited  —  the  black- 
smith's shop,  the  post-office,  a  pioneer's 
cabin,  and  the  old  hotel  and  stage-office  — 
only  accented  the  general  desolation.  The 
latter  building  had  a  remoteness  of  prosper- 


228      SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S  WELL 

ity  far  beyond  the  others,  having  been  a  way- 
side Spanish- American  posada,  with  adobe 
walls  of  two  feet  in  thickness,  that  shamed 
the  later  shells  of  half-inch  plank,  which 
were  slowly  warping  and  cracking  like  dried 
pods  in  the  oven-like  heat. 

The  proprietor  of  this  building,  Colonel 
Swinger,  had  been  looked  upon  by  the  com 
munity  as  a  person  quite  as  remote,  old- 
fashioned,  and  inconsistent  with  present 
progress  as  the  house  itself.  He  was  an  old 
Virginian,  who  had  emigrated  from  his  de- 
caying plantation  on  the  James  River  only 
to  find  the  slaves,  which  he  had  brought 
with  him,  freed  men  when  they  touched 
Californian  soil ;  to  be  driven  by  Northern 
progress  and  "  smartness  "  out  of  the  larger 
cities  into  the  mountains,  to  fix  himself  at 
last,  with  the  hopeless  fatuity  of  his  race, 
upon  an  already  impoverished  settlement ; 
to  sink  his  scant  capital  in  hopeless  shafts 
and  ledges,  and  finally  to  take  over  the 
decaying  hostelry  of  Buena  Vista,  with  its 
desultory  custom  and  few,  lingering,  impe- 
cunious guests.  Here,  too,  his  old  Virginian 
ideas  of  hospitality  were  against  his  financial 
success ;  he  could  not  dun  nor  turn  from  his 


SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S   WELL     229 

door  those  unfortunate  prospectors  whom 
the  ebbing  fortunes  of  Buena  Vista  had  left 
stranded  by  his  side. 

Colonel  Swinger  was  sitting  in  a  wicker- 
work  rocking-chair  on  the  veranda  of  his 
hotel  —  sipping  a  mint  julep  which  he  held 
in  his  hand,  while  he  gazed  into  the  dusty 
distance.  Nothing  could  have  convinced 
him  that  he  was  not  performing  a  serious 
part  of  his  duty  as  hotel-keeper  in  this  atti- 
tude, even  though  there  were  no  travelers 
expected,  and  the  road  at  this  hour  of  the 
day  was  deserted.  On  a  bench  at  his  side 
Larry  Hawkins  stretched  his  lazy  length,  — 
one  foot  dropped  on  the  veranda,  and  one 
arm  occasionally  groping  under  the  bench 
for  his  own  tumbler  of  refreshment.  Apart 
from  this  community  of  occupation,  there 
was  apparently  no  interchange  of  sentiment 
between  the  pair.  The  silence  had  continued 
for  some  moments,  when  the  colonel  put 
down  his  glass  and  gazed  earnestly  into  the 
distance. 

"  Seem'  anything?  "  remarked  the  man  on 
the  bench,  who  had  sleepily  regarded  him. 

"  No,"  said  the  colonel,  "  that  is  —  it 's 
only  Dick  Ruggles  crossin'  the  road." 


230      SECEET  OF  SOBEIENTE'S    WELL 

"  Thought  you  looked  a  little  startled,  ez 
if  you  'd  seen  that  ar  wanderin'  stranger/' 

"  When  I  see  that  wandering  stranger, 
sah,"  said  the  colonel  decisively,  "  I  won't 
be  sittin'  long  in  this  yer  chyar.  I  '11  let 
him  know  in  about  ten  seconds  that  I  don't 
harbor  any  vagrants  prowlin'  about  like 
poor  whites  or  free  niggers  on  my  propahty, 
sah!" 

"  All  the  same,  I  kinder  wish  ye  did  see 
him,  for  you  'd  be  settled  in  your  mind 
and  I  'd  be  easier  in  mine,  ef  you  found 
out  what  he  was  doin'  round  yer,  or  ye  had 
to  admit  that  it  was  n't  no  limn!  man." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  the  colonel, 
testily  facing  around  in  his  chair. 

His  companion  also  altered  his  attitude 
by  dropping  his  other  foot  to  the  floor,  sit- 
ting up,  and  leaning  lazily  forward  with  his 
hands  clasped. 

"  Look  yer,  colonel.  When  you  took  this 
place,  I  felt  I  did  n't  have  no  call  to  tell  ye 
all  I  know  about  it,  nor  to  pizen  yer  mind 
by  any  darned  fool  yarns  I  mout  hev  heard. 
Ye  know  it  was  one  o'  them  old  Spanish 
haciendas  ?  " 

"  I  know,"  said  the  colonel  loftily,  "  that 


SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S    WELL     231 

it  was  held  by  a  grant  from  Charles  the 
Fifth  of  Spain,  just  as  my  propahty  on  the 
James  River  was  given  to  my  people  by 
King  James  of  England,  sah  !  " 

"  That  ez  as  may  be,"  returned  his  com- 
panion, in  lazy  indifference  ;  "  though  I 
reckon  that  Charles  the  Fifth  of  Spain  and 
King  James  of  England  ain't  got  much  to 
do  with  what  I  'm  goin'  to  tell  ye.  Ye  see, 
I  was  here  long  afore  your  time,  or  any  of 
the  boys  that  hev  now  cleared  out ;  and  at 
that  time  the  hacienda  belonged  to  a  man 
named  Juan  Sobriente.  He  was  that  kind 
o'  fool  that  he  took  no  stock  in  mining. 
When  the  boys  were  whoopin'  up  the  place 
and  finding  the  color  everywhere,  and  there 
was  a  hundred  men  working  down  there  in 
the  gulch,  he  was  either  ridin'  round  lookin' 
up  the  wild  horses  he  owned,  or  sittin'  with 
two  or  three  lazy  peons  and  Injins  that  was 
fed  and  looked  arter  by  the  priests.  Gosh  ! 
now  I  think  of  it,  it  was  mighty  like  you 
when  you  first  kem  here  with  your  niggers. 
That 's  curious,  too,  ain't  it  ?  " 

He  had  stopped,  gazing  with  an  odd, 
superstitious  wonderment  at  the  colonel,  as 
if  overcome  by  this  not  very  remarkable 


232      SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S   WELL 

coincidence.  The  colonel,  overlooking  or 
totally  oblivious  to  its  somewhat  uncompli- 
mentary significance,  simply  said,  "  Go  on. 
What  about  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  ez  I  was  sayin',  he  warn't  in  it 
nohow,  but  kept  on  his  reg'lar  way  when  the 
boom  was  the  biggest.  Some  of  the  boys 
allowed  it  was  mighty  oncivil  for  him  to 
stand  off  like  that,  and  others  —  when  he 
refused  a  big  pile  for  his  hacienda  and  the 
garden,  that  ran  right  into  the  gold-bearing 
ledge  —  war  for  lynching  him  and  driving 
him  outer  the  settlement.  But  as  he  had  a 
pretty  darter  or  niece  livin'  with  him,  and, 
except  for  his  partickler  cussedness  towards 
mining,  was  kinder  peaceable  and  perlite, 
they  thought  better  of  it.  Things  went 
along  like  this,  until  one  day  the  boys 
noticed  —  particklerly  the  boys  that  had 
slipped  up  on  their  luck  —  that  old  man 
Sobriente  was  gettin'  rich,  —  had  stocked  a 
ranch  over  on  the  Divide,  and  had  given 
some  gold  candlesticks  to  the  mission  church. 
That  would  have  been  only  human  nature 
and  business,  ef  he  'd  had  any  during  them 
flush  times  ;  but  he  had  n't.  This  kinder 
puzzled  them.  They  tackled  the  peons,  — 


SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S    WELL      233 

his  niggers,  —  but  it  was  all  '  No  sabe.' 
They  tackled  another  man,  —  a  kind  of  half- 
breed  Kanaka,  who,  except  the  priest,  was 
the  only  man  who  came  to  see  him,  and  was 
supposed  to  be  mighty  sweet  on  the  darter 
or  niece,  —  but  they  did  n't  even  get  the 
color  outer  him.  Then  the  first  thing  we 
knowed  was  that  old  Sobriente  was  found 
dead  in  the  well !  " 

"  In  the  well,  sah  !  "  said  the  colonel, 
starting  up.  "  The  well  on  my  propahty  ?  " 

"No,"  said  his  companion.  "The  old 
well  that  was  afterwards  shut  up.  Yours 
was  dug  by  the  last  tenant,  Jack  Raintree, 
who  allowed  that  he  did  n't  want  to  *  take  any 
Sobriente  in  his  reg'lar  whiskey  and  water.' 
Well,  the  half-breed  Kanaka  cleared  out 
after  the  old  man's  death,  and  so  did  that 
darter  or  niece ;  and  the  church,  to  whom 
old  Sobriente  had  left  this  house,  let  it  to 
Raintree  for  next  to  nothin'." 

"  I  don't  see  what  all  that  has  got  to  do 
with  that  wandering  tramp,"  said  the  colonel, 
who  was  by  no  means  pleased  with  this  his- 
tory of  his  property. 

"  I  '11  tell  ye.  A  few  days  after  Raintree 
took  it  over,  he  was  lookin'  round  the  gar- 


234     SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S   WELL 

den,  which  old  Sobriente  had  always  kept 
shut  up  agin  strangers,  and  he  finds  a  lot  of 
dried-up  '  slumgullion  '  1  scattered  all  about 
the  borders  and  beds,  just  as  if  the  old  man 
had  been  using  it  for  fertilizing.  Well, 
Raintree  ain't  no  fool ;  he  allowed  the  old 
man  was  n't  one,  either  ;  and  he  knew  that 
slumgullion  was  n't  worth  no  more  than  mud 
for  any  good  it  would  do  the  garden.  So 
he  put  this  yer  together  with  Sobriente's 
good  luck,  and  allowed  to  himself  that  the 
old  coyote  had  been  secretly  gold-washin' 
all  the  while  he  seemed  to  be  standin'  off 
agin  it !  But  where  was  the  mine  ?  Whar 
did  he  get  the  gold  ?  That 's  what  got  Rain- 
tree.  He  hunted  all  over  the  garden,  pro- 
spected every  part  of  it,  —  ye  kin  see  the 
holes  yet,  —  but  he  never  even  got  the 
color !  " 

He  paused,  and  then,  as  the  colonel  made 
an  impatient  gesture,  he  went  on. 

"  Well,  one  night  just  afore  you  took  the 
place,  and  when  Raintree  was  gettin'  just 
sick  of  it,  he  happened  to  be  walkin'  hi  the 
garden.  He  was  puzzlin'  his  brain  agin  to 
know  how  old  Sobriente  made  his  pile,  when 

1  That  is,  a  viscid  cement-like  refuse  of  gold-washing. 


SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S   WELL     235 

all  of  a  suddenst  he  saw  suthin'  a-movin'  in 
the  brush  beside  the  house.  He  calls  out, 
thinkin'  it  was  one  of  the  boys,  but  got  no 
answer.  Then  he  goes  to  the  bushes,  and  a 
tall  figger,  all  in  black,  starts  out  afore  him. 
He  could  n't  see  any  face,  for  its  head  was 
covered  with  a  hood,  but  he  saw  that  it 
held  suthin'  like  a  big  cross  clasped  agin  its 
breast.  This  made  him  think  it  was  one  o' 
them  priests,  until  he  looks  agin  and  sees 
that  it  was  n't  no  cross  it  was  carryin,'  but 
a  pickaxe  !  He  makes  a  jump  towards  it, 
but  it  vanished  !  He  traipsed  over  the  hull 
garden,  —  went  through  ev'ry  bush,  —  but  it 
was  clean  gone.  Then  the  hull  thing  flashed 
upon  him  with  a  cold  shiver.  The  old  man 
bein'  found  dead  in  the  well !  the  goin' 
away  of  the  half-breed  and  the  girl !  the 
fmdin'  o'  that  slumgullion  !  The  old  man 
had  made  a  strike  in  that  garden,  the  half- 
breed  had  discovered  his  secret  and  mur- 
dered him,  throwin'  him  down  the  well ! 
It  war  no  livin*  man  that  he  had  seen,  but 
the  ghost  of  old  Sobriente  !  " 

The  colonel  emptied  the  remaining  con- 
tents of  his  glass  at  a  single  gulp,  and  sat 
up.  "  It 's  my  opinion,  sah,  that  Raintree 


236      SECEET  OF  SOBEIENTE'S   WELL 

had  that  night  more  than  his  usual  allow- 
ance of  corn-juice  on  board ;  and  it 's  only 
a  wonder,  sah,  that  he  did  n't  see  a  few  pink 
alligators  and  sky-blue  snakes  at  the  same 
tune.  But  what 's  this  got  to  do  with  that 
wanderin'  tramp  ?  " 

"  They  're  all  the  same  thing,  colonel,  and 
in  my  opinion  that  there  tramp  ain't  no 
more  alive  than  that  figger  was." 

"  But  you  were  the  one  that  saw  this 
tramp  with  your  own  eyes,"  retorted  the 
colonel  quickly,  "  and  you  never  before  al- 
lowed it  was  a  spirit !  " 

"  Exactly !  I  saw  it  whar  a  minit  afore 
nothin'  had  been  standin',  and  a  minit  after 
nothin'  stood,"  said  Larry  Hawkins,  with  a 
certain  serious  emphasis ;  "  but  I  warn't 
goin'  to  say  it  to  anybody,  and  I  warn't 
goin'  to  give  you  and  the  hacienda  away. 
And  ez  nobody  knew  Raintree's  story,  I  jest 
shut  up  my  head.  But  you  kin  bet  your 
life  that  the  man  I  saw  warn't  no  livin' 
man  ! " 

"  We  '11  see,  sah  !  "  said  the  colonel,  ris- 
ing from  his  chair  with  his  fingers  in  the 
armholes  of  his  nankeen  waistcoat,  "  ef  he 
ever  intrudes  on  my  property  again.  But 


SECRET  OF  SOBEIENTE'S   WELL     237 

look  yar !  don't  ye  go  sayin'  anything  of 
this  to  Polly,  —  you  know  what  women 
are  !  " 

A  faint  color  came  into  Larry's  face  ;  an 
animation  quite  different  to  the  lazy  deliber- 
ation of  his  previous  monologue  shone  in  his 
eyes,  as  he  said,  with  a  certain  rough  respect 
he  had  not  shown  before  to  his  companion, 
"  That 's  why  I  'm  tellin'  ye,  so  that  ef  she 
happened  to  see  anything  and  got  skeert, 
ye  'd  know  how  to  reason  her  out  of  it." 

"  'Sh !  "  said  the  colonel,  with  a  warning 
gesture. 

A  young  girl  had  just  appeared  in  the 
doorway,  and  now  stood  leaning  against  the 
central  pillar  that  supported  it,  with  one 
hand  above  her  head,  in  a  lazy  attitude 
strongly  suggestive  of  the  colonel's  Southern 
indolence,  yet  with  a  grace  entirely  her  own. 
Indeed,  it  overcame  the  negligence  of  her 
creased  and  faded  yellow  cotton  frock  and 
unbuttoned  collar,  and  suggested  —  at  least 
to  the  eyes  of  one  man  —  the  curving  and 
clinging  of  the  jasmine  vine  against  the 
outer  column  of  the  veranda.  Larry  Haw- 
kins rose  awkwardly  to  his  feet. 

"  Now  what  are  you  two  men  mumblin' 


238      SECRET  OF  SOBBIENTE'S   WELL 

and  conficlin'  to  each  other?  You  look  for 
all  the  world  like  two  old  women  gossips," 
she  said,  with  languid  impertinence. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  a  privileged  and 
recognized  autocrat  spoke.  No  one  had 
ever  questioned  Polly  Swinger's  right  to  in- 
terrupting, interfering,  and  saucy  criticisms. 
Secure  in  the  hopeless  or  chivalrous  admira- 
tion of  the  men  around  her,  she  had  repaid 
it  with  a  frankness  that  scorned  any  co- 
quetry ;  with  an  indifference  to  the  ordinary 
feminine  effect  or  provocation  in  dress  or 
bearing  that  was  as  natural  as  it  was  in- 
vincible. No  one  had  ever  known  Polly  to 
"fix  up "  for  anybody,  yet  no  one  ever 
doubted  the  effect,  if  she  had.  No  one  had 
ever  rebuked  her  charming  petulance,  or 
wished  to. 

Larry  gave  a  weak,  vague  laugh.  Colonel 
Swinger  as  ineffectively  assumed  a  mock 
parental  severity.  "  When  you  see  two  gen- 
tlemen, miss,  discussin'  politics  together,  it 
ain't  behavin'  like  a  lady  to  interrupt.  Bet- 
ter run  away  and  tidy  yourself  before  the 
stage  comes." 

The  young  lady  replied  to  the  last  innu- 
endo by  taking  two  spirals  of  soft  hair,  like 


SECRET  OF  SOBBIENTE'S   WELL     239 

"corn  silk,"  from  her  oval  cheek,  wetting 
them  with  her  lips,  and  tucking  them  behind 
her  ears.  Her  father's  ungentlemanly  sug- 
gestion being  thus  disposed  of,  she  returned 
to  her  first  charge. 

"  It  ain't  no  politics  ;  you  ain't  been  swear- 
ing enough  for  that  !  Come,  now  !  It 's 
the  mysterious  stranger  ye  've  been  talking 
about !  " 

Both  men  stared  at  her  with  unaffected 
concern. 

"  What  do  you  know  about  any  mysteri- 
ous stranger  ?  "  demanded  her  father. 

"  Do  you  suppose  you  men  kin  keep  a  se- 
cret," scoffed  Polly.  "  Why,  Dick  Ruggles 
told  me  how  skeert  ye  all  were  over  an  entire 
stranger,  and  he  advised  me  not  to  wander 
down  the  road  after  dark.  I  asked  him  if  he 
thought  I  was  a  pickaninny  to  be  frightened 
by  bogies,  and  that  if  he  had  n't  a  better 
excuse  for  wantin'  '  to  see  me  home '  from 
the  In j in  spring,  he  might  slide." 

Larry  laughed  again,  albeit  a  little  bitterly, 
for  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  excuse  was  fully 
justified ;  but  the  colonel  said  promptly, 
"  Dick 's  a  fool,  and  you  might  have  told  him 
there  were  worse  things  to  be  met  on  the  road 


240      SECRET  OF  SOBEIENTE'S    WELL 

than  bogies.  Eun  away  now,  and  see  that 
the  niggers  are  on  hand  when  the  stage 
comes." 

Two  hours  later  the  stage  came  with  a 
clatter  of  hoofs  and  a  cloud  of  red  dust, 
which  precipitated  itself  and  a,  dozen  thirsty 
travelers  upon  the  veranda  before  the  hotel 
bar-room  ;  it  brought  also  the  usual  "  ex- 
press "  newspapers  and  much  talk  to  Colonel 
Swinger,  who  always  received  his  guests  in 
a  lofty  personal  fashion  at  the  door,  as  he 
might  have  done  in  his  old  Virginian  home  ; 
but  it  brought  likewise  —  marvelous  to  re- 
late —  an  actual  guest,  who  had  two  trunks 
and  asked  for  a  room  !  He  was  evidently  a 
stranger  to  the  ways  of  Buena  Vista,  and 
particularly  to  those  of  Colonel  Swinger,  and 
at  first  seemed  inclined  to  resent  the  social 
attitude  of  his  host,  and  his  frank  and  free 
curiosity.  When  he,  however,  found  that 
Colonel  Swinger  was  even  better  satisfied  to 
give  an  account  of  his  own  affairs,  his  fam- 
ily, pedigree,  and  his  present  residence,  he 
began  to  betray  some  interest.  The  colonel 
told  him  all  the  news,  and  would  no  doubt 
have  even  expatiated  on  his  ghostly  visitant, 
had  he  not  prudently  concluded  that  his 


SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S   WELL     241 

guest  might  decline  to  remain  in  a  haunted 
inn.  The  stranger  had  spoken  of  staying  a 
week  ;  he  had  some  private  mining  specula- 
tions to  watch  at  Wynyard's  Gulch,  —  the 
next  settlement,  but  he  did  not  care  to  ap- 
pear openly  at  the  "  Gulch  Hotel."  He  was 
a  man  of  thirty,  with  soft,  pleasing  features 
and  a  singular  litheness  of  movement,  which, 
combined  with  a  nut-brown,  gypsy  complex- 
ion, at  first  suggested  a  foreigner.  But  his 
dialect,  to  the  colonel's  ears,  was  distinctly 
that  of  New  England,  and  to  this  was  added 
a  puritanical  and  sanctimonious  drawl.  "  He 
looked,"  said  the  colonel  in  after  years,  "  like 
a  blank  light  mulatter,  but  talked  like  a 
blank  Yankee  parson."  For  all  that,  he 
was  acceptable  to  his  host,  who  may  have 
felt  that  his  reminiscences  of  his  plantation 
on  the  James  River  were  palling  on  Buena 
Vista  ears,  and  was  glad  of  his  new  auditor. 
It  was  an  advertisement,  too,  of  the  hotel, 
and  a  promise  of  its  future  fortunes.  "  Gen- 
tlemen having  propahty  interests  at  the 
Gulch,  sah,  prefer  to  stay  at  Buena  Vista 
with  another  man  of  propahty,  than  to  trust 
to  those  new-fangled  papah-collared,  ginger- 
bread booths  for  traders  that  they  call  '  ho- 


242      SECRET  OF  SOBBIENTE'S   WELL 

tels '  there,"  he  had  remarked  to  some  of 
"  the  boys."  In  his  preoccupation  with  the 
new  guest,  he  also  became  a  little  neglectful 
of  his  old  chum  and  dependent,  Larry  Haw- 
kins. Nor  was  this  the  only  circumstance 
that  filled  the  head  of  that  shiftless  loyal 
retainer  of  the  colonel  with  bitterness  and 
foreboding.  Polly  Swinger — the  scornfully 
indifferent,  the  contemptuously  inaccessible, 
the  coldly  capricious  and  petulant  —  was  in- 
clined to  be  polite  to  the  stranger ! 

The  fact  wras  that  Polly,  after  the  fashion 
of  her  sex,  took  it  into  her  pretty  head, 
against  all  consistency  and  logic,  suddenly 
to  make  an  exception  to  her  general  attitude 
towards  mankind  in  favor  of  one  individual. 
The  reason-seeking  masculine  reader  will 
rashly  conclude  that  this  individual  was  the 
cause  as  well  as  the  object ;  but  I  am  satis- 
fied that  every  fair  reader  of  these  pages  will 
instinctively  know  better.  Miss  Polly  had 
simply  selected  the  new  guest,  Mr.  Starbuck, 
to  show  others,  particularly  Larry  Hawkins, 
what  she  could  do  if  she  were  inclined  to  be 
civil.  For  two  days  she  "  fixed  up  "  her  dis- 
tracting hair  at  him  so  that  its  silken  floss 
encircled  her  head  like  a  nimbus  ;  she  tucked 


SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S   WELL     243 

her  oval  chin  into  a  white  fichu  instead  of  a 
buttonless  collar  ;  she  appeared  at  dinner  in 
a  newly  starched  yellow  frock !  She  talked 
to  him  with  "  company  manners  ;  "  said  she 
would  "  admire  to  go  to  San  Francisco,"  and 
asked  if  he  knew  her  old  friends  the  Fauquier 
girls  from  "  Faginia."  The  colonel  was  some- 
what disturbed  ;  he  was  glad  that  his  daugh- 
ter had  become  less  negligent  of  her  personal 
appearance  ;  he  could  not  but  see,  with  the 
others,  how  it  enhanced  her  graces  ;  but  he 
was,  with  the  others,  not  entirely  satisfied 
with  her  reasons.  And  he  could  not  help 
observing  —  what  was  more  or  less  patent 
to  all  —  that  Starbuck  was  far  from  being 
equally  responsive  to  her  attentions,  and  at 
times  was  indifferent  and  almost  uncivil. 
Nobody  seemed  to  be  satisfied  with  Polly's 
transformation  but  herself. 

But  eventually  she  was  obliged  to  assert 
herself.  The  third  evening  after  Starbuck's 
arrival  she  was  going  over  to  the  cabin  of 
Aunt  Chloe,  who  not  only  did  the  washing 
for  Buena  Vista,  but  assisted  Polly  in  dress- 
vnaking.  It  was  not  far,  and  the  night  was 
moonlit.  As  she  crossed  the  garden  she  saw 
Starbuck  moving  in  the  manzanita  bushes 


244      SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S   WELL 

beyond ;  a  mischievous  light  came  into  her 
eyes  ;  she  had  not  expected  to  meet  him,  but 
she  had  seen  him  go  out,  and  there  were 
always  possibilities.  To  her  surprise,  how- 
ever, he  merely  lifted  his  hat  as  she  passed, 
and  turned  abruptly  in  another  direction. 
This  was  more  than  the  little  heart-breaker 
of  Buena  Vista  was  accustomed  to  ! 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Starbuck !  "  she  called,  in  her 
laziest  voice. 

He  turned  almost  impatiently. 

"  Since  you  're  so  civil  and  pressing,  1 
thought  I  'd  tell  you  I  was  just  runnin'  over 
to  Aunt  Chloe's,"  she  said  dryly. 

"  I  should  think  it  was  hardly  the  proper 
thing  for  a  young  lady  to  do  at  this  time  of 
night,"  he  said  superciliously.  "  But  you 
know  best,  —  you  know  the  people  here." 

Polly's  cheeks  and  eyes  flamed.  "  Yes,  I 
reckon  I  do,"  she  said  crisply  ;  "  it 's  only  a 
stranger  here  would  think  of  being  rude. 
Good-night,  Mr.  Starbuck  !  " 

She  tripped  away  after  this  Parthian  shot, 
yet  feeling,  even  in  her  triumph,  that  the 
conceited  fool  seemed  actually  relieved  at  her 
departure !  And  for  the  first  time  she  now 
thought  that  she  had  seen  something  in  his 


SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S   WELL     245 

face  that  she  did  not  like  !  But  her  lazy 
independence  reasserted  itself  soon,  and  half 
an  hour  later,  when  she  had  left  Aunt 
Chloe's  cabin,  she  had  regained  her  self- 
esteem.  Yet,  to  avoid  meeting  him  again, 
she  took  a  longer  route  home,  across  the 
dried  ditch  and  over  the  bluff,  scarred  by 
hydraulics,  and  so  fell,  presently,  upon  the 
old  garden  at  the  point  where  it  adjoined  the 
abandoned  diggings.  She  was  quite  sure  she 
had  escaped  a  meeting  with  Starbuck,  and 
was  gliding  along  under  the  shadow  of  the 
pear-trees,  when  she  suddenly  stopped.  An 
indescribable  terror  overcame  her  as  she 
stared  at  a  spot  in  the  garden,  perfectly  il- 
luminated by  the  moonlight  not  fifty  yards 
from  where  she  stood.  For  she  saw  on  its 
surface  a  human  head  —  a  man's  head  !  — 
seemingly  on  the  level  of  the  ground,  staring 
in  her  direction.  A  hysterical  laugh  sprang 
from  her  lips,  and  she  caught  at  the  branches 
above  her  or  she  would  have  fallen  !  Yet  in 
that  moment  the  head  had  vanished !  The 
moonlight  revealed  the  empty  garden,  —  the 
ground  she  had  gazed  at,  —  but  nothing 
more! 

She  had  never  been  superstitious.     As  a 


246      SECRET  OF  SOBBIENTE'S   WELL 

child  she  had  heard  the  negroes  talk  of  "  the 
hants," —  that  is,  "the  haunts  "  or  spirits, — 
but  had  believed  it  a  part  of  their  ignorance, 
and  unworthy  a  white  child,  —  the  daughter 
of  their  master  !  She  had  laughed  with  Dick 
Ruggles  over  the  illusions  of  Larry,  and  had 
shared  her  father's  contemptuous  disbelief 
of  the  wandering  visitant  being  anything  but 
a  living  man ;  yet  she  would  have  screamed 
for  assistance  now,  only  for  the  greater  fear 
of  making  her  weakness  known  to  Mr.  Star- 
buck,  and  being  dependent  upon  him  for 
help.  And  with  it  came  the  sudden  convic- 
tion that  he  had  seen  this  awful  vision,  too. 
This  would  account  for  his  impatience  of  her 
presence  and  his  rudeness.  She  felt  faint 
and  giddy.  Yet  after  the  first  shock  had 
passed,  her  old  independence  and  pride  came 
to  her  relief.  She  would  go  to  the  spot  and 
examine  it.  If  it  were  some  trick  or  illusion, 
she  would  show  her  superiority  and  have  the 
laugh  on  Starbuck.  She  set  her  white  teeth, 
clenched  her  little  hands,  and  started  out 
into  the  moonlight.  But  alas  !  for  women's 
weakness.  The  next  moment  she  uttered  a 
scream  and  almost  fell  into  the  arms  of  Mr. 
Starbuck,  who  had  stepped  out  of  the  shad- 
ows beside  her. 


SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S   WELL     247 

"  So  you  see  you  have  been  frightened," 
he  said,  with  a  strange,  forced  laugh  ;  "  but 
I  warned  you  about  going  out  alone !  " 

Even  in  her  fright  she  could  not  help  see- 
ing that  he,  too,  seemed  pale  and  agitated, 
at  which  she  recovered  her  tongue  and  her 
self-possession. 

"  Anybody  would  be  frightened  by  being 
dogged  about  under  the  trees,"  she  said 
pertly. 

"  But  you  called  out  before  you  saw  me," 
he  said  bluntly,  "  as  if  something  had  fright- 
ened you.  That  was  why  I  came  towards 
you." 

She  knew  it  was  the  truth ;  but  as  she 
would  not  confess  to  her  vision,  she  fibbed 
outrageously. 

"  Frightened,"  she  said,  with  pale  but 
lofty  indignation.  "What  was  there  to 
frighten  me  ?  I  'm  not  a  baby,  to  think  I 
see  a  bogie  in  the  dark !  "  This  was  said 
in  the  faint  hope  that  he  had  seen  some- 
thing too.  If  it  had  been  Larry  or  her 
father  who  had  met  her,  she  would  have 
confessed  everything. 

"  You  had  better  go  in,"  he  said  curtly. 
"  I  will  see  you  safe  inside  the  house." 


248      SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S   WELL 

She  demurred  at  this,  but  as  she  could  not 
persist  in  her  first  bold  intention  of  examin- 
ing the  locality  of  the  vision  without  admit- 
ting its  existence,  she  permitted  him  to  walk 
with  her  to  the  house,  and  then  at  once  fled 
to  her  own  room.  Larry  and  her  father 
noticed  their  entrance  together  and  their 
agitated  manner,  and  were  uneasy.  Yet 
the  colonel's  paternal  pride  and  Larry's  lov- 
er's respect  kept  the  two  men  from  commu- 
nicating their  thoughts  to  each  other. 

"  The  confounded  pup  has  been  tryin'  to 
be  familiar,  and  Polly 's  set  him  down," 
thought  Larry,  with  glowing  satisfaction. 

"  He  's  been  trying  some  of  his  sancti- 
monious Yankee  abolition  talk  on  Polly, 
and  she  shocked  him  !  "  thought  the  colonel 
exultingly. 

But  poor  Polly  had  other  things  to  think 
of  in  the  silence  of  her  room.  Another  wo- 
man would  have  unburdened  herself  to  a 
confidante  ;  but  Polly  was  too  loyal  to  her 
father  to  shatter  his  beliefs,  and  too  high- 
spirited  to  take  another  and  a  lesser  person 
into  her  confidence.  She  was  certain  that 
Aunt  Chloe  would  be  full  of  sympathetic 
belief  and  speculations,  but  she  would  not 


SECEET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S    WELL      249 

trust  a  nigger  with  what  she  could  n't  tell 
her  own  father.  For  Polly  really  and  truly 
believed  that  she  had  seen  a  ghost,  no  doubt 
the  ghost  of  the  murdered  Sobriente,  accord- 
ing to  Larry's  story.  Why  he  should  ap- 
pear with  only  his  head  above  ground  puzzled 
her,  although  it  suggested  the  Catholic  idea 
of  purgatory,  and  he  was  a  Catholic !  Per- 
haps he  would  have  risen  entirely  but  for 
that  stupid  Starbuck's  presence ;  perhaps  he 
had  a  message  for  her  alone.  The  idea 
pleased  Polly,  albeit  it  was  a  "  fearful  joy  " 
and  attended  with  some  cold  shivering. 
Naturally,  as  a  gentleman,  he  would  ap- 
pear to  her  —  the  daughter  of  a  gentle- 
man —  the  successor  to  his  house  —  rather 
than  to  a  Yankee  stranger.  What  was  she 
to  do  ?  For  once  her  calm  nerves  were 
strangely  thrilled ;  she  could  not  think  of 
undressing  and  going  to  bed,  and  two  o'clock 
surprised  her,  still  meditating,  and  occa- 
sionally peeping  from  her  window  upon  the 
moonlit  but  vacant  garden.  If  she  saw  him 
again,  would  she  dare  to  go  down  alone  ? 
Suddenly  she  started  to  her  feet  with  a 
beating  heart !  There  was  the  unmistaka- 
ble sound  of  a  stealthy  footstep  in  the  pas- 


250      SECRET  OF  SOBEIENTE'S   WELL 

sage,  coming  towards  her  room.  Was  it  he  ? 
In  spite  of  her  high  resolves  she  felt  that  if 
the  door  opened  she  should  scream !  She 
held  her  breath  —  the  footsteps  came  nearer 
—  were  before  her  door  —  and  passed  ! 

Then  it  was  that  the  blood  rushed  back 
to  her  cheek  with  a  flush  of  indignation. 
Her  room  was  at  the  end  of  the  passage ; 
there  was  nothing  beyond  but  a  private 
staircase,  long  disused,  except  by  herself,  as 
a  short  cut  through  the  old  patio  to  the  gar- 
den. No  one  else  knew  of  it,  and  no  one 
else  had  the  right  of  access  to  it !  This  in- 
solent human  intrusion  —  as  she  was  satis- 
fied it  was  now  —  overcame  her  fear,  and 
she  glided  to  the  door.  Opening  it  softly, 
she  could  hear  the  stealthy  footsteps  de- 
scending. She  darted  back,  threw  a  shawl 
over  her  head  and  shoulders,  and  taking 
the  small  Derringer  pistol  which  it  had 
always  been  part  of  her  ostentatious  inde- 
pendence to  place  at  her  bed-head,  she  as 
stealthily  followed  the  intruder.  But  the 
footsteps  had  died  away  before  she  reached 
the  patio,  and  she  saw  only  the  small  de- 
serted, grass-grown  courtyard,  half  hidden 
in  shadows,  in  whose  centre  stood  the 


SECRET  OF  SOBBIENTE'S   WELL     251 

fateful  and  long  sealed-up  well !  A  shudder 
came  over  her  at  again  being  brought  into 
contact  with  the  cause  of  her  frightful  vi- 
sion, but  as  her  eyes  became  accustomed  to 
the  darkness,  she  saw  something  more  real 
and  appalling !  The  well  was  no  longer 
sealed!  Fragments  of  bricks  and  boards 
lay  around  it !  One  end  of  a  rope,  coiled 
around  it  like  a  huge  snake,  descended  its 
foul  depths  ;  and  as  she  gazed  with  staring 
eyes,  the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  man 
emerged  slowly  from  it !  But  it  was  not  the 
ghostly  apparition  of  last  evening,  and  her 
terror  changed  to  scorn  and  indignation  as 
she  recognized  the  face  of  Starbuck  ! 

Their  eyes  met ;  an  oath  broke  from  his 
lips.  He  made  a  movement  to  spring  from 
the  well,  but  as  the  girl  started  back,  the 
pistol  held  in  her  hand  was  discharged 
aimlessly  in  the  air,  and  the  report  echoed 
throughout  the  courtyard.  With  a  curse 
Starbuck  drew  back,  instantly  disappeared 
in  the  well,  and  Polly  fell  fainting  on  the 
steps.  When  she  came  to,  her  father  and 
Larry  were  at  her  side.  They  had  been 
alarmed  at  the  report,  and  had  rushed  quickly 
to  the  patio,  but  not  in  time  to  prevent  the 


252      SECRET  OF  SOBRIENTE'S   WELL 

escape  of  Starbuck  and  his  accomplice.  By 
the  time  she  had  recovered  her  consciousness, 
they  had  learned  the  full  extent  of  that  ex- 
traordinary revelation  which  she  had  so  in- 
nocently precipitated.  Sobriente's  well  had 
really  concealed  a  rich  gold  ledge,  —  actually 
tunneled  and  galleried  by  him  secretly  in 
the  past,  —  and  its  only  other  outlet  was  an 
opening  in  the  garden  hidden  by  a  stone 
which  turned  on  a  swivel.  Its  existence  had 
been  unknown  to  Sobriente's  successor,  but 
was  known  to  the  Kanaka  who  had  worked 
with  Sobriente,  who  fled  with  his  daughter 
after  the  murder,  but  who  no  doubt  was 
afraid  to  return  and  work  the  mine.  He 
had  imparted  the  secret  to  Starbuck,  another 
half-breed,  son  of  a  Yankee  missionary  and 
Hawaiian  wife,  who  had  evidently  conceived 
this  plan  of  seeking  Buena  Vista  with  an 
accomplice,  and  secretly  removing  such  gold 
as  was  still  accessible.  The  accomplice, 
afterwards  identified  by  Larry  as  the  wan- 
dering tramp,  failed  to  discover  the  secret 
entrance  from  the  garden,  and  Starbuck  was 
consequently  obliged  to  attempt  it  from  the 
hotel  —  for  which  purpose  he  had  intro- 
duced himself  as  a  boarder  —  by  opening 


SECEET  OF  SOBBIENTE'S   WELL     253 

the  disused  well  secretly  at  night.  These 
facts  were  obtained  from  papers  found  in 
the  otherwise  valueless  trunks,  weighted 
with  stones  for  ballast,  which  Starbuck  had 
brought  to  the  hotel  to  take  away  his  stolen 
treasure  in,  but  which  he  was  obliged  to 
leave  in  his  hurried  flight.  The  attempt 
would  have  doubtless  succeeded  but  for 
Polly's  courageous  and  timely  interference  ! 

And  now  that  they  had  told  her  all,  they 
only  wanted  to  know  what  had  first  excited 
her  suspicions,  and  driven  her  to  seek  the 
well  as  the  object  of  Starbuck's  machina- 
tions ?  They  had  noticed  her  manner  when 
she  entered  the  house  that  night,  and  Star- 
buck's  evident  annoyance.  Had  she  taxed 
him  with  her  suspicions,  and  so  discovered 
a  clue  ? 

It  was  a  terrible  temptation  to  Polly  to 
pose  as  a  more  perfect  heroine,  and  one  may 
not  blame  her  if  she  did  not  rise  entirely 
superior  to  it.  Her  previous  belief,  that  the 
head  of  the  accomplice  at  the  opening  of 
the  garden  was  that  of  a  ghost,  she  now  felt 
was  certainly  in  the  way,  as  was  also  her 
conduct  to  Starbuck,  whom  she  believed  to 
be  equally  frightened,  and  whom  she  never 


254      SECRET  OF  SOBBIENTE'S   WELL 

once  suspected !  So  she  said,  with  a  certain 
lofty  simplicity,  that  there  were  some  things 
which  she  really  did  not  care  to  talk  about, 
and  Larry  and  her  father  left  her  that  night 
with  the  firm  conviction  that  the  rascal  Star- 
buck  had  tried  to  tempt  her  to  fly  with  him 
and  his  riches,  and  had  been  crushingly 
foiled.  Polly  never  denied  this,  and  once, 
in  later  days,  when  admiringly  taxed  with  it 
by  Larry,  she  admitted  with  dove-like  sim- 
plicity that  she  may  have  been  too  foolishly 
polite  to  her  father's  guest  for  the  sake  of 
her  father's  hotel. 

However,  all  this  was  of  small  account  to 
the  thrilling  news  of  a  new  discovery  and 
working  of  the  "  old  gold  ledge  "  at  Buena 
Vista  !  As  the  three  kept  their  secret  from 
the  world,  the  discovery  was  accepted  in  the 
neighborhood  as  the  result  of  careful  exami- 
nation and  prospecting  on  the  part  of  Colo- 
nel Swinger  and  his  partner  Larry  Hawkins. 
And  when  the  latter  gentleman  afterwards 
boldly  proposed  to  Polly  Swinger,  she  mis- 
chievously declared  that  she  accepted  him 
only  that  the  secret  might  not  go  "  out  of 
the  family." 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

IT  was  at  best  merely  a  rocky  trail  wind- 
ing along  a  shelf  of  the  eastern  slope  of 
the  Santa  Cruz  range,  yet  the  only  road  be- 
tween the  sea  and  the  inland  valley.  The 
hoof -prints  of  a  whole  century  of  zigzagging 
mules  were  impressed  on  the  soil,  regularly 
soaked  by  winter  rains  and  dried  by  summer 
suns  during  that  period ;  the  occasional  ruts 
of  heavy,  rude,  wooden  wheels  —  long  ob- 
solete —  were  still  preserved  and  visible. 
Weather-worn  boulders  and  ledges,  lying  in 
the  unclouded  glare  of  an  August  sky,  radi- 
ated a  quivering  heat  that  was  intolerable, 
even  while  above  them  the  masts  of  gigantic 
pines  rocked  their  tops  in  the  cold  south- 
western trades  from  the  unseen  ocean  be- 
yond. A  red,  burning  dust  lay  everywhere, 
as  if  the  heat  were  slowly  and  visibly  pre- 
cipitating itself. 

The  creaking  of  wheels  and  axles,  the 
muffled  plunge  of  hoofs,  and  the  cough  of 
a  horse  in  the  dust  thus  stirred  presently 


256      LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

broke  the  profound  woodland  silence.  Then 
a  dirty  white  canvas-covered  emigrant  wagon 
slowly  arose  with  the  dust  along  the  ascent. 
It  was  travel-stained  and  worn,  and  with  its 
rawboned  horses  seemed  to  have  reached  the 
last  stage  of  its  journey  and  fitness.  The 
only  occupants,  a  man  and  a  girl,  appeared 
to  be  equally  jaded  and  exhausted,  with  the 
added  querulousness  of  discontent  in  their 
sallow  and  badly  nourished  faces.  Their 
voices,  too,  were  not  unlike  the  creaking 
they  had  been  pitched  to  overcome,  and 
there  was  an  absence  of  reserve  and  con- 
sciousness in  their  speech,  which  told  pa- 
thetically of  an  equal  absence  of  society. 

"  It 's  no  user  talkin' !  I  tell  ye,  ye  hain't 
got  no  more  sense  than  a  coyote  !  I  'm  sick 
and  tired  of  it,  doggoned  if  I  ain't!  Ye 
ain't  no  more  use  nor  a  hossfly,  —  and  jest 
ez  hinderin' !  It  was  along  o'  you  that  we 
lost  the  stock  at  Laramie,  and  ef  ye  'd  bin 
at  all  decent  and  takin',  we  'd  hev  had  kem- 
pany  that  helped,  instead  of  laggin'  on  yere 
alone ! " 

"  What  did  ye  bring  me  for  ? "  retorted 
the  girl  shrilly.  "  I  might  hev  stayed  with 
Aunt  Marty.  I  was  n't  hankerin'  to  come." 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     257 

"  Bring  ye  for  ?  "  repeated  her  father  con- 
temptuously;  "I  reckoned  ye  might  be  o' 
some  account  here,  whar  wimmin  folks  is 
skeerce,  in  the  way  o'  helpin',  —  and|aebbe 
gettin'  yer  married  to  some  likely  feller. 
Mighty  much  chance  o'  that,  with  yer  yal- 
ler  face  and  skin  and  bones." 

"  Ye  can't  blame  me  for  takin'  arter  you, 
dad,"  she  said,  with  a  shrill  laugh,  but  no 
other  resentment  of  his  brutality. 

"  Ye  want  somebody  to  take  arter  you  — 
with  a  club,"  he  retorted  angrily.  "Ye 
hear !  Wot 's  that  ye  're  doin'  now  ?  " 

She  had  risen  and  walked  to  the  tail  of 
the  wagon.  "  Goin'  to  get  out  and  walk. 
I  'm  tired  o'  bein'  jawed  at." 

She  jumped  into  the  road.  The  act  was 
neither  indignant  nor  vengeful;  the  fre- 
quency of  such  scenes  had  blunted  their 
sting.  She  was  probably  "tired"  of  the 
quarrel,  and  ended  it  rudely.  Her  father, 
however,  let  fly  a  Parthian  arrow. 

"  Ye  need  n't  think  I  'm  goin'  to  wait  for 
ye,  ez  I  hev  !  Ye  've  got  to  keep  tetch  with 
the  team,  or  get  left.  And  a  good  riddance 
of  bad  rubbidge." 

In  reply  the  girl  dived  into  the  underwood 


258      LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERT 

beside  the  trail,  picked  a  wild  berry  or  two, 
stripped  a  wand  of  young  hazel  she  had 
broken  off,  and  switching  it  at  her  side, 
skipped  along  on  the  outskirts  of  the  wood 
and  ambled  after  the  wagon.  Seen  in  the 
full,  merciless  glare  of  a  Californian  sky, 
she  justified  her  father's  description ;  thin 
and  bony,  her  lank  frame  outstripped  the 
body  of  her  ragged  calico  dress,  which  was 
only  kept  on  her  shoulders  by  straps,  —  pos- 
sibly her  father's  cast-off  braces.  A  boy's 
soft  felt  hat  covered  her  head,  and  shadowed 
her  only  notable  feature,  a  pair  of  large 
dark  eyes,  looking  larger  for  the  hollow 
temples  which  narrowed  the  frame  in  which 
they  were  set. 

So  long  as  the  wagon  crawled  up  the  as- 
cent the  girl  knew  she  could  easily  keep  up 
with  it,  or  even  distance  the  tired  horses. 
She  made  one  or  two  incursions  into  the 
wood,  returning  like  an  animal  from  quest 
of  food,  with  something  in  her  mouth,  which 
she  was  tentatively  chewing,  and  once  only 
with  some  inedible  mandrono  berries,  plucked 
solely  for  their  brilliant  coloring.  It  was 
very  hot  and  singularly  close;  the  higher 
current  of  air  had  subsided,  and,  looking 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     259 

up,  a  singular  haze  seemed  to  have  taken  its 
place  between  the  treetops.  Suddenly  she 
heard  a  strange,  rumbling  sound ;  an  odd 
giddiness  overtook  her,  and  she  was  obliged 
to  clutch  at  a  sapling  to  support  herself ; 
she  laughed  vacantly,  though  a  little  fright- 
ened, and  looked  vaguely  towards  the  sum- 
mit of  the  road  ;  but  the  wagon  had  al- 
ready disappeared.  A  strange  feeling  of 
nausea  then  overcame  her  ;  she  spat  out  the 
leaves  she  had  been  chewing,  disgustedly. 
But  the  sensation  as  quickly  passed,  and 
she  once  more  sought  the  trail  and  began 
slowly  to  follow  the  tracks  of  the  wagonw 
The  air  blew  freshly,  the  treetops  began- 
again  to  rock  over  her  head,  and  the  inci- 
dent was  forgotten. 

Presently  she  paused ;  she  must  have 
missed  the  trail,  for  the  wagon  tracks  had 
ended  abruptly  before  a  large  boulder  that 
lay  across  the  mountain  trail.  She  dipped 
into  the  woods  again  ;  here  there  were  other 
wagon  tracks  that  confused  her.  It  was; 
like  her  dogged,  stupid  father  to  miss  the 
trail ;  she  felt  a  gleam  of  malicious  satisfac- 
tion at  his  discomfiture.  Sooner  or  later,  he 
would  have  to  retrace  his  steps  and  virtually 


260      LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

come  back  for  her !  She  took  up  a  position 
where  two  rough  wheel  ruts  and  tracks  in- 
tersected each  other,  one  of  which  must  be 
the  missing  trail.  She  noticed,  too,  the 
broader  hoof -prints  of  cattle  without  the 
following  wheel  ruts,  and  instead  of  traces, 
the  long  smooth  trails  made  by  the  dragging 
of  logs,  and  knew  by  these  tokens  that  she 
must  be  near  the  highway  or  some  wood- 
man's hut  or  ranch.  She  began  to  be 
thirsty,  and  was  glad,  presently,  when  her 
quick,  rustic  ear  caught  the  tinkling  of  water. 
Yet  it  was  not  so  easy  to  discover,  and  she 
was  getting  footsore  and  tired  again  before 
she  found  it,  some  distance  away,  in  a  gully 
coming  from  a  fissure  in  a  dislocated  piece 
of  outcrop.  It  was  beautifully  clear,  cold, 
and  sparkling,  with  a  slightly  sweetish  taste, 
yet  unlike  the  brackish  "  alkali "  of  the 
plains.  It  refreshed  and  soothed  her  greatly, 
so  much  that,  reclining  against  a  tree,  but 
where  she  would  be  quite  visible  from  the 
trail,  her  eyes  closed  dreamily,  and  presently 
she  slept. 

When  she  awoke,  the  shafts  of  sunlight 
were  striking  almost  level  into  her  eyes. 
She  must  have  slept  two  hours.  Her  father 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVEEY     261 

had  not  returned ;  she  knew  the  passage  of 
the  wagon  would  have  awakened  her.  She 
began  to  feel  strange,  but  not  yet  alarmed ; 
it  was  only  the  uncertainty  that  made  her 
uneasy.  Had  her  father  really  gone  on  by 
some  other  trail  ?  Or  had  he  really  hurried 
on  and  left  her,  as  he  said  he  would  ?  The 
thought  brought  an  odd  excitement  to  her 
rather  than  any  fear.  A  sudden  sense  of 
freedom,  as  if  some  galling  chain  had 
dropped  from  her,  sent  a  singular  thrill 
through  her  frame.  Yet  she  felt  confused 
with  her  independence,  not  knowing  what 
to  do  with  it,  and  momentarily  dazzled  with 
the  possible  gift. 

At  this  moment  she  heard  voices,  and 
the  figures  of  two  men  appeared  on  the 
trail. 

They  were  talking  earnestly,  and  walking 
as  if  familiar  with  the  spot,  yet  gazing 
around  them  as  if  at  some  novelty  of  the 
aspect. 

"  And  look  there,"  said  one ;  "  there  has 
been  some  serious  disturbance  of  that  out- 
crop," pointing  in  the  direction  of  the 
spring ;  "  the  lower  part  has  distinctly  sub- 
sided." He  spoke  with  a  certain  authority, 


282      LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

and  dominance  of  position,  and  was  evi- 
dently the  superior,  as  he  was  the  elder  of 
the  two,  although  both  were  roughly  dressed. 

"  Yes,  it  does  kinder  look  as  if  it  had 
lost  its  holt,  like  the  ledge  yonder." 

"  And  you  see  I  am  right ;  the  move- 
ment was  from  east  to  west,"  continued  the 
elder  man. 

The  girl  could  not  comprehend  what  they 
said,  and  even  thought  them  a  little  silly. 
But  she  advanced  towards  them ;  at  which 
they  stopped  short,  staring  at  her.  With 
feminine  instinct  she  addressed  the  more 
important  one :  — 

"Ye  ain't  passed  no  wagon  nor  team  goin' 
on,  hev  ye  ?  " 

"  What  sort  of  wagon  ?  "  said  the  man. 

"  Em' grant  wagon,  two  yaller  hosses. 
Old  man  —  my  dad  —  drivin'."  She  added 
the  latter  kinship  as  a  protecting  influence 
against  strangers,  in  spite  of  her  previous 
independence. 

The  men  glanced  at  each  other. 

"  How  long  ago  ?  " 

The  girl  suddenly  remembered  that  she 
had  slept  two  hours. 

"  Sens  noon,"  she  said  hesitatingly. 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     263 

"  Since  the  earthquake  ?  " 

"  Wot  's  that?" 

The  man  came  impatiently  towards  her. 
"  How  did  you  come  here  ?  " 

"  Got  outer  the  wagon  to  walk.  I 
reckon  dad  missed  the  trail,  and  hez  got 
off  somewhere  where  I  can't  find  him." 

"  What  trail  was  he  on,  —  where  was  he 
going  ?  " 

"  Sank  Hozay,1  I  reckon.  He  was  goin' 
up  the  grade  —  side  o'  the  lull ;  he  must 
hev  turned  off  where  there 's  a  big  rock 
hangin'  over." 

"  Did  you  see  him  turn  off  ?  " 

"  No." 

The  second  man,  who  was  in  hearing  dis- 
tance, had  turned  away,  and  was  ostenta- 
tiously examining  the  sky  and  the  treetops  ; 
the  man  who  had  spoken  to  her  joined  him, 
and  they  said  something  in  a  low  voice. 
They  turned  again  and  came  slowly  towards 
her.  She,  from  some  obscure  sense  of  imi- 
tation, stared  at  the  treetops  and  the  sky 
as  the  second  man  had  done.  But  the  first 
man  now  laid  his  hand  kindly  on  her  shoul- 
der and  said,  "  Sit  down." 

1  San  Jos4. 


264      LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

Then  they  told  her  there  had  been  an 
earthquake  so  strong  that  it  had  thrown 
down  a  part  of  the  hillside,  including 
the  wagon  trail.  That  a  wagon  team  and 
driver,  such  as  she  had  described,  had  been 
carried  down  with  it,  crushed  to  fragments, 
and  buried  under  a  hundred  feet  of  rock  in 
the  gulch  below.  A  party  had  gone  down 
to  examine,  but  it  would  be  weeks  perhaps 
before  they  found  it,  and  she  must  be  pre- 
pared for  the  worst.  She  looked  at  them 
vaguely  and  with  tearless  eyes. 

"  Then  ye  reckon  dad  's  dead  ?  " 

"  We  fear  it." 

"  Then  wot 's  a-goin'  to  become  o'  me  ?  " 
she  said  simply. 

They  glanced  again  at  each  other.  "  Have 
you  no  friends  in  California  ? "  said  the 
elder  man. 

"  Nary  one." 

"  What  was  your  father  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Dunno.     I  reckon  he  did  n't  either." 

"You  may  stay  here  for  the  present," 
said  the  elder  man  meditatively.  "  Can  you 
milk  ?  " 

The  girl  nodded.  "  And  I  suppose  you 
know  something  about  looking  after  stock  ?  " 
he  continued. 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     265 

The  girl  remembered  that  her  father 
thought  she  didn't,  but  this  was  no  time  for 
criticism,  and  she  again  nodded. 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  the  older  man, 
rising.  "  I  suppose,"  he  added,  glancing  at 
her  ragged  frock,  "  everything  you  have  is 
in  the  wagon." 

She  nodded,  adding  with  the  same  cold 
naivete,  "  It  ain't  much  !  " 

They  walked  on,  the  girl  following ;  at 
times  straying  furtively  on  either  side,  as  if 
meditating  an  escape  in  the  woods,  —  which 
indeed  had  once  or  twice  been  vaguely  in 
her  thoughts,  —  but  chiefly  to  avoid  further 
questioning  and  not  to  hear  what  the  men 
said  to  each  other.  For  they  were  evidently 
speaking  of  her,  and  she  could  not  help  hear- 
ing the  younger  repeat  her  words,  "  Wot 's 
a-goin'  to  become  o'  me?"  with  considerable 
amusement,  and  the  addition  :  "  She  '11  take 
care  of  herself,  you  bet !  I  call  that  remark 
o'  hers  the  richest  thing  out." 

"  And  /  call  the  state  of  things  that  pro- 
voked it  —  monstrous  !  "  said  the  elder  man 
grimly.  "  You  don't  know  the  lives  of  these 
people." 

Presently  they  came  to  an  open  clearing 


266      LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVEEY 

in  the  fcrest,  yet  so  incomplete  that  many 
of  the  felled  trees,  partly  lopped  of  their 
boughs,  still  lay  where  they  had  fallen. 
There  was  a  cabin  or  dwelling  of  unplaned, 
unpainted  boards ;  very  simple  in  structure, 
yet  made  in  a  workmanlike  fashion,  quite 
unlike  the  usual  log  cabin  she  had  seen. 
This  made  her  think  that  the  elder  man  was 
a  "  towny,"  and  not  a  frontiersman  like  the 
other. 

As  they  approached  the  cabin  the  elder 
man  stopped,  and  turning  to  her,  said :  — 

"  Do  you  know  Indians  ?  " 

The  girl  started,  and  then  recovering 
herself  with  a  quick  laugh :  "  G'lang  !  — 
there  ain't  any  Injins  here  !  " 

"  Not  the  kind  you  mean  ;  these  are  very 
peaceful.  There  's  a  squaw  here  whom  you 
will "  —  he  stopped,  hesitated  as  he  looked 
critically  at  the  girl,  and  then  corrected  him- 
self —  "  who  will  help  you." 

He  pushed  open  the  cabin  door  and 
showed  an  interior,  equally  simple  but  well 
joined  and  fitted,  —  a  marvel  of  neatness 
and  finish  to  the  frontier  girl's  eye.  There 
were  shelves  and  cupboards  and  other  con- 
veniences, yet  with  no  ostentation  of  re- 


LIBEETY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     267 

finement  to  frighten  her  rustic  sensibili- 
ties. 

Then  he  pushed  open  another  door  lead- 
ing into  a  shed  and  called  "  Waya."  A 
stout,  undersized  Indian  woman,  fitted  with 
a  coarse  cotton  gown,  but  cleaner  and  more 
presentable  than  the  girl's  one  frock,  ap- 
peared in  the  doorway.  "This  is  Waya, 
who  attends  to  the  cooking  and  cleaning," 
he  said ;  "  and  by  the  way,  what  is  your 
name?" 

"  Libby  Jones." 

He  took  a  small  memorandum  book  and 
a  "  stub "  of  pencil  from  his  pocket. 
"  Elizabeth  Jones,"  he  said,  writing  it  down. 
The  girl  interposed  a  long  red  hand. 

"  No,"  she  interrupted  sharply,  "  not 
Elizabeth,  but  Libby, « —  short  for  Lib'rty." 

"Liberty?" 

"Yes." 

"  Liberty  Jones,  then.  Well,  Waya, 
this  is  Miss  Jones,  who  will  look  after  the 
cows  and  calves — and  the  dairy."  Then 
glancing  at  her  torn  dress,  he  added  : 
"  You  '11  find  some  clean  things  in  there, 
until  I  can  send  up  something  from  San 
Jose.  Waya  will  show  you." 


268     LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

Without  further  speech  he  turned  away 
with  the  other  man.  When  they  were  some 
distance  from  the  cabin,  the  younger  re- 
marked :  — 

"More  like  a  boy  than  a  girl,  ain't 
she?" 

"  So  much  the  better  for  her  work,"  re- 
turned the  elder  grimly. 

"  I  reckon !  I  was  only  thinkin'  she 
did  n't  han'some  much  either  as  a  boy  or 
girl,  eh,  doctor  ?  "  he  pursued. 

"Well!  as  that  won't  make  much  dif- 
ference to  the  cows,  calves,  or  the  dairy,  it 
need  n't  trouble  us"  returned  the  doctor 
dryly.  But  here  a  sudden  outburst  of 
laughter  from  the  cabin  made  them  both 
turn  in  that  direction.  They  were  in  time 
to  see  Liberty  Jones  dancing  out  of  the 
cabin  door  in  a  large  cotton  pinafore,  evi- 
dently belonging  to  the  squaw,  who  was 
following  her  with  half  -  laughing,  half- 
frightened  expostulations.  The  two  men 
stopped  and  gazed  at  the  spectacle. 

"  Do  n't  seem  to  be  takin'  the  old  man's 
death  very  pow'fully,"  said  the  younger, 
with  a  laugh. 

"  Quite  as  much  as  he  deserved,  I  dare- 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     269 

say,"  said  the  doctor  curtly.  "If  the 
accident  had  happened  to  her,  he  would 
have  whined  and  whimpered  to  us  for  the 
sake  of  getting  something,  but  have  been  as 
much  relieved,  you  may  be  certain.  She 's 
too  young  and  too  natural  to  be  a  hypocrite 
yet." 

Suddenly  the  laughter  ceased  and  Liberty 
Jones's  voice  arose,  shrill  but  masterful : 
"  Thar,  that  '11  do !  Quit  now !  You  jest 
get  back  to  your  scrubbin'  —  d'  ye  hear  ? 
I  'm  boss  o'  this  shanty,  you  bet !  " 

The  doctor  turned  with  a  grim  smile  to 
his  companion.  "  That 's  the  only  thing 
that  bothered  me,  and  I  've  been  waiting  for. 
She  's  settled  it.  She  '11  do.  Come." 

They  turned  away  briskly  through  the 
wood.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hour's  walk 
they  found  the  team  that  had  brought  them 
there  in  waiting,  and  drove  towards  San 
Jose.  It  was  nearly  ten  miles  before  they 
passed  another  habitation  or  trace  of  clearing. 
And  by  this  time  night  had  fallen  upon  the 
cabin  they  had  left,  and  upon  the  newly  made 
orphan  and  her  Indian  companion,  alone 
and  contented  in  that  trackess  solitude. 


270     LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

Liberty  Jones  had  been  a  year  at  the 
cabin.  In  that  time  she  had  learned  that 
her  employer's  name  was  Doctor  Ruysdael, 
that  he  had  a  lucrative  practice  in  San  Jose, 
but  had  also  "  taken  up  "  a  league  or  two  of 
wild  forest  land  in  the  Santa  Cruz  range, 
which  he  preserved  and  held  after  a  fashion 
of  his  own,  which  gave  him  the  reputation 
of  being  a  "  crank  "  among  the  very  few 
neighbors  his  vast  possessions  permitted, 
and  the  equally  few  friends  his  singular 
tastes  allowed  him.  It  was  believed  that  a 
man  owning  such  an  enormous  quantity  of 
timber  land,  who  should  refuse  to  set  up  a 
sawmill  and  absolutely  forbid  the  felling  of 
trees ;  who  should  decline  to  connect  it  with 
the  highway  to  Santa  Cruz,  and  close  it 
against  improvement  and  speculation,  had 
given  sufficient  evidence  of  his  insanity ; 
but  when  to  this  was  added  the  rumor  that 
he  himself  was  not  only  devoid  of  the 
human  instinct  of  hunting  the  wild  ani- 
mals with  which  his  domain  abounded, 
but  that  he  held  it  so  sacred  to  their 
use  as  to  forbid  the  firing  of  a  gun  within 
his  limits,  and  that  these  restrictions  were 
further  preserved  and  "  policed "  by  the 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     271 

scattered  remnants  of  a  band  of  aborigines, 

—  known  as  "  digger  Injins,"  —  it  was   se- 
riously   hinted    that    his    eccentricity    had 
acquired  a  political  and  moral  significance, 
and  demanded  legislative  interference.    But 
the  doctor  was  a  rich  man,  a  necessity  to 
his  patients,  a  good  marksman,  and,  it  was 
rumored,   did    not    include  his   fellow  men 
among  the  animals  he  had  a   distaste  for 
killing. 

Of  all  this,  however,  Liberty  knew  little 
and  cared  less.  The  solitude  appealed  to 
her  sense  of  freedom  ;  she  did  not  "  hanker  " 
after  a  society  she  had  never  known.  At 
the  end  of  the  first  week,  when  the  doctor 
communicated  to  her  briefly,  by  letter,  the 
convincing  proofs  of  the  death  of  her  father 
and  his  entombment  beneath  the  sunken 
cliff,  she  accepted  the  fact  without  comment 
or  apparent  emotion.  Two  months  later, 
when  her  only  surviving  relative,  "  Aunt 
Marty,"  of  Missouri,  acknowledged  the 
news  —  communicated  by  Doctor  Ruysdael 

—  with  Scriptural  quotations  and  the  cheer- 
ful hope  that  it  "  would  be  a  lesson  to  her  " 
and  she  would  "  profit  in  her  new  place," 
she  left  her  aunt's  letter  unanswered. 


272     LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

She  looked  after  the  cows  and  calves  with 
an  interest  that  was  almost  possessory,  pa- 
tronized and  played  with  the  squaw,  —  yet 
made  her  feel  her  inferiority,  —  and  moved 
among  the  peaceful  aborigines  with  the  dom- 
ination of  a  white  woman  and  a  superior. 
She  tolerated  the  half-monthly  visits  of 
"Jim  Hoskins,"  the  young  companion  of 
the  doctor,  who  she  learned  was  ihe  doctor's 
factor  and  overseer  of  the  property,  who 
lived  seven  miles  away  on  an  agricultural 
clearing,  and  whose  control  of  her  actions 
was  evidently  limited  by  the  doctor,  —  for 
the  doctor's  sake  alone.  Nor  was  Mr.  Hos- 
kins inclined  to  exceed  those  limits.  He 
looked  upon  her  as  something  abnormal,  — 
a  "  crank  "  as  remarkable  in  her  way  as  her 
patron  was  in  his,  neuter  of  sex  and  vague 
of  race,  and  he  simply  restricted  his  super- 
vision to  the  bringing  and  taking  of  mes- 
sages. She  remained  sole  queen  of  the 
domain.  A  rare  straggler  from  the  main 
road,  penetrating  this  seclusion,  might  have 
scarcely  distinguished  her  from  Waya,  in 
her  coarse  cotton  gown  and  slouched  hat, 
except  for  the  free  stride  which  contrasted 
with  her  companion's  waddle.  Once,  in  fol- 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     273 

lowing  an  estrayed  calf,  she  had  crossed  the 
highway  and  been  saluted  by  a  passing  team- 
ster in  the  digger  dialect ;  yet  the  mistake 
left  no  sting  in  her  memory.  And,  like  the 
digger,  she  shrank  from  that  civilization 
which  had  only  proved  a  hard  taskmaster. 

The  sole  touch  of  human  interest  she  had 
in  her  surroundings  was  in  the  rare  visits 
of  the  doctor  and  his  brief  but  sincere  com- 
mendation of  her  rude  and  rustic  work.  It 
is  possible  that  the  strange,  middle-aged, 
gray-haired,  intellectual  man,  whose  very 
language  was  at  times  mysterious  and  unin- 
telligible to  her,  and  whose  suggestion  of 
power  awed  her,  might  have  touched  some 
untried  filial  chord  in  her  being.  Although 
she  felt  that,  save  for  absolute  freedom,  she 
was  little  more  to  him  than  she  had  J>een  to 
her  father,  yet  he  had  never  told  her  she 
had  "  no  sense,"  that  she  was  "  a  hindrance," 
and  he  had  even  praised  her  performance 
of  her  duties.  Eagerly  as  she  looked  for 
his  coming,  in  his  actual  presence  she  felt  a 
singular  uneasiness  of  which  she  was  not 
entirely  ashamed,  and  if  she  was  relieved  at 
his  departure,  it  none  the  less  left  her  to  a 
delightful  memory  of  him,  a  warm  sense  of 


274     LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

his  approval,  and  a  fierce  ambition  to  be 
worthy  of  it,  for  which  she  would  have  sac- 
rificed herself  or  the  other  miserable  retain- 
ers about  her,  as  a  matter  of  course.  She 
had  driven  Waya  and  the  other  squaws  far 
along  the  sparse  tableland  pasture  in  search 
of  missing  stock  ;  she  herself  had  lain  out 
all  night  on  the  rocks  beside  an  ailing 
heifer.  Yet,  while  satisfied  to  earn  his 
praise  for  the  performance  of  her  duty,  for 
some  feminine  reason  she  thought  more  fre- 
quently of  a  casual  remark  he  had  made 
on  his  last  visit :  "  You  are  stronger  and 
more  healthy  in  this  air,"  he  had  said,  look- 
ing critically  into  her  face.  "  We  have  got 
that  abominable  alkali  out  of  your  system, 
and  wholesome  food  will  do  the  rest."  She 
was  not  sure  she  had  quite  understood  him, 
but  she  remembered  that  she  had  felt  her 
face  grow  hot  when  he  spoke,  —  perhaps  be- 
cause she  had  not  understood  him. 

His  next  visit  was  a  day  or  two  delayed, 
and  in  her  anxiety  she  had  ventured  as  far 
as  the  highway  to  earnestly  watch  for  his 
coming.  From  her  hiding-place  in  the  un- 
derwood she  could  see  the  team  and  Jim 
Hoskins  already  waiting  for  him.  Presently 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     275 

she  saw  him  drive  up  to  the  trail  in  a  carry- 
all with  a  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen. 
He  alighted,  bade  "  Good-by  "  to  the  party, 
and  the  team  turned  to  retrace  its  course. 
But  in  that  single  moment  she  had  been 
struck  and  bewildered  by  what  seemed  to 
her  the  dazzlingly  beautiful  apparel  of  the 
women,  and  their  prettiness.  She  felt  a  sud- 
den consciousness  of  her  own  coarse,  shape- 
less calico  gown,  her  straggling  hair,  and  her 
felt  hat,  and  a  revulsion  of  feeling  seized  her. 
She  crept  like  a  wounded  animal  out  of  the 
underwood,  and  then  ran  swiftly  and  almost 
fiercely  back  towards  the  cabin.  She  ran 
so  fast  that  for  a  time  she  almost  kept  pace 
with  the  doctor  and  Hoskins  in  the  wagon 
on  the  distant  trail.  Then  she  dived  into 
the  underwood  again,  and  making  a  short 
cut  through  the  forest,  came  at  the  end  of 
two  hours  within  hailing  distance  of  the 
cabin,  —  footsore  and  exhausted,  in  spite  of 
the  strange  excitement  that  had  driven  her 
back.  Here  she  thought  she  heard  voices  — 
his  voice  among  the  rest  —  calling  her,  but 
the  same  singular  revulsion  of  feeling  hur- 
ried her  vaguely  on  again,  even  while  she 
experienced  a  foolish  savage  delight  in  not 


276      LIBERTY  JONESES  DISCOVERY 

answering  the  summons.  In  this  erratic 
wandering  she  came  upon  the  spring  she  had 
found  on  her  first  entrance  in  the  forest  a 
year  ago,  and  drank  feverishly  a  second  time 
at  its  trickling  source.  She  could  see  that 
since  her  first  visit  it  had  worn  a  great 
hollow  below  the  tree  roots  and  now  formed 
a  shining,  placid  pool.  As  she  stooped  to 
look  at  it,  she  suddenly  observed  that  it  re- 
flected her  whole  figure  as  in  a  cruel  mirror, 
—  her  slouched  hat  and  loosened  hair,  her 
coarse  and  shapeless  gown,  her  hollow  cheeks 
and  dry  yellow  skin,  —  in  all  their  hope- 
less, uncompromising  details.  She  uttered  a 
quick,  angry,  half -reproachful  cry,  and  turned 
again  to  fly.  But  she  had  not  gone  far  be- 
fore she  came  upon  the  hurrying  figures  and 
anxious  faces  of  the  doctor  and  Hoskins. 
She  stopped,  trembling  and  irresolute. 

*'  Ah,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  tone  of  frank 
relief.  "  Here  you  are  !  I  was  getting  wor- 
ried about  you.  Waya  said  you  had  been 
gone  since  morning !  "  He  stopped  and 
looked  at  her  attentively.  "  Is  anything  the 
matter  ?  " 

His  evident  concern  sent  a  warm  glow  over 
her  chilly  frame,  and  yet  the  strange  sensa- 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     277 

iion  remained.  "  No  —  no  !  "  she  stam- 
mered. 

Doctor  Ruysdael  turned  to  Hoskins.  "  Go 
back  and  tell  Waya  I  've  found  her." 

Libby  felt  that  the  doctor  only  wanted 
to  get  rid  of  his  companion,  and  became 
awed  again. 

"  Has  anybody  been  bothering  you  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Have  the  diggers  frightened  you  ?  " 

"  No  "  —  with  a  gesture  of  contempt. 

"  Have  you  and  Waya  quarreled  ?  " 

"  Nary  "  —  with  a  faint,  tremulous  smile. 

He  still  stared  at  her,  and  then  dropped 
his  blue  eyes  musingly.  "  Are  you  lonely 
here  ?  Would  you  rather  go  to  San  Jose  ?  " 

Like  a  flash  the  figures  of  the  two  smartly 
dressed  women  started  up  before  her  again, 
with  every  detail  of  their  fresh  and  whole- 
some finery  as  cruelly  distinct  as  had  been 
her  own  shapeless  ugliness  in  the  mirror  of 
the  spring.  "  No  !  No !  "  she  broke  out 
vehemently  and  passionately.  "  Never !  " 

He  smiled  gently.  "  Look  here !  I  '11 
send  you  up  some  books.  You  read  —  don't 
you  ?  "  She  nodded  quickly.  "  Some  maga- 
zines and  papers.  Odd  I  never  thought  of 


278      LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

it  before,"  he  added  half  musingly.  "  Come 
along  to  the  cabin.  And,"  he  stopped  again 
and  said  decisively,  "  the  next  time  you 
want  anything,  don't  wait  for  me  to  come, 
but  write." 

A  few  days  after  he  left  she  received  a 
package  of  books,  —  an  odd  collection  of 
novels,  magazines,  and  illustrated  journals 
of  the  period.  She  received  them  eagerly 
as  an  evidence  of  his  concern  for  her,  but  it 
is  to  be  feared  that  her  youthful  nature 
found  little  satisfaction  in  the  gratification 
of  fancy.  Many  of  the  people  she  read  of 
were  strange  to  her ;  many  of  the  incidents 
related  seemed  to  her  mere  lies  ;  some  tales 
which  treated  of  people  in  her  own  sphere 
she  found  profoundly  uninteresting.  In  one 
of  the  cheaper  magazines  she  chanced  upon 
a  fashion  plate ;  she  glanced  eagerly  through 
all  the  others  for  a  like  revelation  until  she 
got  a  dozen  together,  when  she  promptly 
relegated  the  remaining  literature  to  a  cor- 
ner and  oblivion.  The  text  accompanying 
the  plates  was  in  a  jargon  not  always  clear, 
but  her  instinct  supplied  the  rest.  She  dis- 
patched by  Hoskins  a  note  to  Doctor  Ruys- 
dael :  "  Please  send  me  some  brite  kalikers 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     279 

and  things  for  sewing.  You  told  me  to 
ask."  A  few  days  later  brought  the  re- 
sponse in  a  good-sized  parcel. 

Yet  this  did  not  keep  her  from  her  care 
of  the  stock  nor  her  rambles  in  the  forest ; 
she  was  quick  to  utilize  her  rediscovery  of 
the  spring  for  watering  the  cattle;  it  was 
not  so  far  afield  as  the  half -dried  creek  in 
the  canon,  and  was  a  quiet  sylvan  spot. 
She  ate  her  frugal  midday  meal  there  and 
drank  of  its  waters,  and,  secure  in  her  se- 
clusion, bathed  there  and  made  her  rude 
toilet  when  the  cows  were  driven  home. 
But  she  did  not  again  look  into  its  mirrored 
surface  when  it  was  tranquil ! 

And  so  a  month  passed.  But  when  Doc- 
tor Ruysdael  was  again  due  at  the  cabin,  a 
letter  was  brought  by  Hoskins,  with  the 
news  that  he  was  called  away  on  professional 
business  down  the  coast,  and  could  not  come 
until  two  weeks  later.  In  the  disappoint- 
ment that  overcame  her,  she  did  not  at  first 
notice  that  Hoskins  was  gazing  at  her  with 
a  singular  expression,  which  was  really  one 
of  undisguised  admiration.  Never  having 
seen  this  before  in  the  eyes  of  any  man  who 
looked  at  her,  she  referred  it  to  some  vague 


280      LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

"  larking  "  or  jocularity,  for  which  she  was 
in  no  mood. 

"  Say,  Libby  !  you  're  gettiu'  to  be  a  right 
smart-lookin'  gal.  Seems  to  agree  with  ye  up 
here,"  said  Hoskins  with  an  awkward  laugh. 
"  Darned  ef  ye  ain't  lookin'  awful  purty !  " 

"  G'long !  "  said  Liberty  Jones,  more  than 
ever  convinced  of  his  badinage. 

"  Fact,"  said  Hoskins  energetically. 
"  Why,  Doc  would  tell  ye  so,  too.  See  ef 
he  don't ! " 

At  this  Liberty  Jones  felt  her  face  grow 
hot.  "You  jess  get!"  she  said,  turning 
away  in  as  much  embarrassment  as  anger. 
Yet  he  hovered  near  her  with  awkward  at- 
tentions that  pleased  while  it  still  angered 
her.  He  offered  to  go  with  her  to  look  up 
the  cows ;  she  flatly  declined,  yet  with  a 
strange  satisfaction  in  his  evident  embar- 
rassment. This  may  have  lent  some  anima- 
tion to  her  face,  for  he  drew  a  long  breath 
and  said :  — 

"  Don't  go  pertendin'  ye  don't  know  yer 
purty.  Say,  let  me  and  you  walk  a  bit  and 
have  a  talk  together."  But  Libby  had  an- 
other idea  in  her  mind  and  curtly  dismissed 
him.  Then  she  ran  swiftly  to  the  spring, 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     281 

for  the  words  "  The  Doc  will  tell  ye  so,  too" 
were  ringing  in  her  ears.  The  doctor  who 
came  with  the  two  beautifully  dressed  wo- 
men !  he  —  would  tell  her  she  was  pretty ! 
She  had  not  dared  to  look  at  herself  in  that 
crystal  mirror  since  that  dreadful  day  two 
months  ago.  She  would  now. 

It  was  a  pretty  place  in  the  cool  shade  of 
the  giant  trees,  and  the  hoof-marks  of  cattle 
drinking  from  the  run  beneath  the  pool  had 
not  disturbed  the  margin  of  that  tranquil 
sylvan  basin.  For  a  moment  she  stood 
tremulous  and  uncertain,  and  then  going  up 
to  the  shining  mirror,  dropped  on  her  knees 
before  it  with  her  thin  red  hands  clasped 
on  her  lap.  Unconsciously  she  had  taken 
the  attitude  of  prayer ;  perhaps  there  was 
something  like  it  in  her  mind. 

And  then  the  light  glanced  full  on  the 
figure  that  she  saw  there  ! 

It  fell  on  a  full  oval  face  and  throat  guile- 
less of  fleck  or  stain,  smooth  as  a'  child's  and 
glowing  with  health ;  on  large  dark  eyes,  no 
longer  sunk  in  their  orbits,  but  filled  with 
an  eager,  happy  light ;  on  bared  arms  now 
shapely  in  contour  and  cushioned  with  firm 
flesh  ;  on  a  dazzling  smile,  the  like  of  which 


282     LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

had  never  been  on  the  face  of  Liberty  Jones 
before  ! 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  and  yet  lingered  as 
if  loath  to  part  from  this  delightful  vision. 
Then  a  fear  overcame  her  that  it  was  some 
trick  of  the  water,  and  she  sped  swiftly  back 
to  the  house  to  consult  the  little  mirror 
which  hung  in  her  sleeping-room,  but  which 
she  had  never  glanced  at  since  the  momen- 
tous day  of  the  spring.  She  took  it  shyly 
into  the  sunshine,  and  found  that  it  corrob- 
orated the  reflection  of  the  spring.  That 
night  she  worked  until  late  at  the  calico  Doc- 
tor Ruysdael  had  sent  her,  and  went  to  bed 
happy.  The  next  day  brought  her  Hoskins 
again  with  a  feeble  excuse  of  inquiring  if 
she  had  a  letter  for  the  doctor,  and  she  was 
surprised  to  find  that  he  was  reinforced  by 
a  stranger  from  Hoskins's  farm,  who  was 
equally  awkward  and  vaguely  admiring. 
But  the  appearance  of  the  two  men  produced 
a  singular  phase  in  her  impressions  and  ex- 
perience. She  was  no  longer  indignant  at 
Hoskins,  but  she  found  relief  in  accepting 
the  compliments  of  the  stranger  in  prefer- 
ence, and  felt  a  delight  in  Hoskins's  discom- 
fiture. Waya,  promoted  to  the  burlesque 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     283 

of  a  chaperone,  grinned  with  infinite  delight 
and  understanding. 

When  at  last  the  day  came  for  the  doc- 
tor's arrival,  he  was  didy  met  by  Hoskins, 
and  as  duly  informed  by  that  impressible 
subordinate  of  the  great  change  in  Liberty's 
appearance.  But  the  doctor  was  far  from 
being  equally  impressed  with  his  factor's 
story,  and  indeed  showed  much  more  inter- 
est in  the  appearance  of  the  stock  which 
they  met  along  the  road.  Once  the  doctor 
got  out  of  the  wagon  to  inspect  a  cow,  and 
particularly  the  coat  of  a  rough  draught 
horse  that  had  been  turned  out  and  put 
under  Liberty's  care.  "  His  skin  is  like  vel- 
vet," said  the  doctor.  "  The  girl  evidently 
understands  stock,  and  knows  how  to  keep 
them  in  condition." 

"  I  reckon  she 's  beginning  to  understand 
herself,  too,"  said  Hoskins.  "  Golly  !  wait 
till  ye  see  her" 

The  doctor  did  see  her,  but  with  what 
feelings  he  did  not  as  frankly  express.  She 
was  not  at  the  cabin  when  they  arrived,  but 
presently  appeared  from  the  direction  of  the 
spring  where,  for  reasons  of  her  own,  she 
had  evidently  made  her  toilet.  Doctor  Ruys- 


284      LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

dael  was  astounded ;  Hoskins's  praise  was 
not  exaggerated  ;  and  there  was  an  added 
charm  that  Hoskins  was  not  prepared  for. 
She  had  put  on  a  gown  of  her  own  making, 
—  the  secret  toil  of  many  a  long  night,  — 
amateurishly  fashioned  from  some  cheap 
yellow  calico  the  doctor  had  sent  her,  yet  fit- 
ting her  wonderfully,  and  showing  every 
curve  of  her  graceful  figure.  Unaccented 
by  a  corset,  —  an  article  she  had  never 
known,  —  even  the  lines  of  the  stiff,  unyield- 
ing calico  had  a  fashion  that  was  nymph- 
like  and  suited  her  unfettered  limbs.  Doctor 
Ruysdael  was  profoundly  moved.  Though 
a  philosopher,  he  was  practical.  He  found 
himself  suddenly  confronted  not  only  by  a 
beautiful  girl,  but  a  problem !  It  was  im- 
possible to  keep  the  existence  of  this  wood- 
land nymph  from  the  knowledge  of  his  dis- 
tant neighbors ;  it  was  equally  impossible 
for  him  to  assume  the  responsibility  of  keep- 
ing a  goddess  like  this  in  her  present  posi- 
tion. He  had  noticed  her  previous  improve- 
ment, but  had  never  dreamed  that  pure  and 
wholesome  living  could  in  two  months  work 
such  a  miracle.  And  he  was  to  a  certain 
degree  responsible ;  he  had  created  her,  —  a 


LIBERTY  JONES' S  DISCOVERY     285 

beautiful  Frankenstein,  whose  lustrous,  ap- 
pealing eyes  were  even  now  menacing  his 
security  and  position. 

Perhaps  she  saw  trouble  and  perplexity  in 
the  face  where  she  had  expected  admiration 
and  pleasure,  for  a  slight  chill  went  over  her 
as  he  quickly  praised  the  appearance  of  the 
stock  and  spoke  of  her  own  improvement. 
But  when  they  were  alone,  he  turned  to  her 
abruptly. 

"  You  said  you  had  no  wish  to  go  to  San 
Jose?" 

"No."  Yet  she  was  conscious  that  her 
greatest  objection  had  been  removed,  and 
she  colored  faintly. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  he  said  dryly.  "  You 
deserve  a  better  position  than  this,  —  a  bet- 
ter home  and  surroundings  than  you  have 
here.  You  are  older,  too,  —  a  woman  almost, 
—  and  you  must  look  ahead." 

A  look  of  mingled  fright,  reproach,  and 
appeal  came  into  her  eloquent  face.  "  Yer 
wantin'  to  send  me  away  ?  "  she  stammered. 

"  No,"  he  said  frankly.  "  It  is  you  who 
are  growing  away.  This  is  no  longer  the 
place  for  you." 

"  But  I  want  to  stay.  I  don't  wanter  go. 
I  am  —  I  was  happy  here," 


286      LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY 

"  But  I  'm  thinking  of  giving  up  this 
place.  It  takes  up  too  much  of  my  time. 
You  must  be  provided  "  - 

"  You  are  going  away  ? "  she  said  pas- 
sionately. 

"Yes." 

"  Take  me  with  you.     I  '11  go  anywhere ! 

—  to  San  Jose  —  wherever  you  go.     Don't 
turn  me  off  as  dad  did,  for  I  '11  foller  you  as 
I  never  followed  dad.     I  '11  go  with  you  — 
or  I '11  die!" 

There  was  neither  fear  nor  sharne  in  her 
words ;  it  was  the  outspoken  instinct  of  the 
animal  he  had  been  rearing;  he  was  con- 
vinced and  appalled  by  it. 

"  I  am  returning  to  San  Jose  at  once," 
he  said  gravely.  "  You  shall  go  with  me  — 
for  the  present !  Get  yourself  ready !  " 

He  took  her  to  San  Jose,  and  temporarily 
to  the  house  of  a  patient,  —  a  widow  lady, 

—  while  he  tried,  alone,  to  grapple  with  the 
problem  that  now  confronted  him.    But  that 
problem  became  more   complicated   at  the 
end   of   the  third  day,  by   Liberty   Jones 
falling  suddenly  and   alarmingly  ill.     The 
symptoms  were  so  grave  that  the  doctor,  in 
his  anxiety,  called  in  a  brother  physician  in 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     287 

consultation.  When  the  examination  was 
over,  the  two  men  withdrew  and  stared  at 
each  other. 

"  Of  course  there  is  no  doubt  that  the 
symptoms  all  point  to  slow  arsenical  poison- 
ing," said  the  consulting  doctor. 

"Yes,"  said  Euysdael  quickly,  "yet  it  is 
utterly  inexplicable,  both  as  to  motive  and 
opportunity." 

"  Humph !  "  said  the  other  grimly,  "  young 
ladies  take  arsenic  in  minute  doses  to  im- 
prove the  complexion  and  promote  tissue, 
forgetting  that  the  effects  are  cumulative 
when  they  stop  suddenly.  Your  young 
friend  has  '  sworn  off  '  too  quickly." 

"  But  it  is  impossible,"  said  Doctor  Ruys- 
dael  impatiently.  "  She  is  a  mere  child  — 
a  country  girl  —  ignorant  of  such  habits." 

"  Humph !  the  peasants  in  the  Tyrol  try 
it  on  themselves  after  noticing  the  effect  on 
the  coats  of  cattle." 

Doctor  Ruysdael  started.  A  recollection 
of  the  sleek  draught  horse  flashed  upon  him. 
He  rose  and  hastily  reentered  the  patient's 
room.  In  a  few  moments  he  returned.  "  Do 
you  think  I  could  remove  her  at  once  to  the 
mountains  ?  "  he  said  gravely. 


288     LIBERTY  JONESES  DISCOVERY 

"  Yes,  with  care  and  a  return  to  gradu- 
ated doses  of  the  same  poison  ;  you  know 
it 's  the  only  remedy  just  now,"  answered 
the  other. 

By  noon  the  next  day  the  doctor  and  his 
patient  had  returned  to  the  cabin,  but  Ruys- 
dael  himself  carried  the  helpless  Liberty 
Jones  to  the  spring  and  deposited  her  gently 
beside  it.  "  You  may  drink  now,"  he  said 
gravely. 

The  girl  did  so  eagerly,  apparently 
imbibing  new  strength  from  the  sparkling 
water.  The  doctor  meanwhile  coolly  filled 
a  phial  from  the  same  source,  and  made  a 
hasty  test  of  the  contents  by  the  aid  of 
some  other  phials  from  his  case.  The  result 
seemed  to  satisfy  him.  Then  he  said  gravely : 

"  And  this  is  the  spring  you  had  dis- 
covered?" 

The  girl  nodded. 

"And  you  and  the  cattle  have  daily 
used  it  ?  " 

She  nodded  again  wonderingly.  Then 
she  caught  his  hand  appealingly. 

"  You  won't  send  me  away  ?  " 

He  smiled  oddly  as  he  glanced  from  the 
waters  of  the  hill  to  the  brimming  eyes. 
"No." 


LIBERTY  JONES'S  DISCOVERY     289 

"No-r,"  tremulously,  "go  away — your- 
self?" 

The  doctor  looked  this  time  only  into  her 
eyes.  There  was  a  tremendous  idea  in  his 
own,  which  seemed  in  some  way  to  have 
solved  that  dreadful  problem. 

"No!    We  will  stay  here  together" 

Six  months  later  there  was  a  paragraph 
in  the  San  Francisco  press :  "  The  wonder- 
ful Arsenical  Spring  in  the  Santa  Cruz 
Mountain,  known  as  '  Liberty  Spring,'  dis- 
covered by  Doctor  Ruysdael,  has  proved 
such  a  remarkable  success  that  we  under- 
stand the  temporary  huts  for  patients  are  to 
be  shortly  replaced  by  a  magnificent  Spa 
Hotel  worthy  of  the  spot,  and  the  eligible 
villa  sites  it  has  brought  into  the  market. 
It  will  be  a  source  of  pleasure  to  all  to 
know  that  the  beautiful  nymph  —  a  worthy 
successor  to  the  far-famed  '  Elise '  of  the 
German  '  Brunnen  '  —  who  has  administered 
the  waters  to  so  many  grateful  patients 
will  still  be  in  attendance,  although  it  is 
rumored  that  she  is  shortly  to  become  the 
wife  of  the  distinguished  discoverer." 


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FLIP,  AND  FOUND  AT  BLAZING  STAR. 

Two  Stories i8mo,  JSi.oo 

IN  THE  CARQUINEZ  WOODS    .      i8mo,  #1.00 
TWO    MEN    OF   SANDY    BAR.     A  Play. 

i8mo,  #1.00 

Riverside  Edition.      With  Portrait  and  Introduc- 
tion.     6  vols.  crown  8vo,  each,  #2.00.     The 

set #12.00 

The  last   eight  books  mentioned  above   are  in- 
cluded in  this  edition. 
i.   POETICAL  WORKS,  TWO  MEN  OF  SANDY 

BAR. 

•L,  THE  LUCK  OF  ROARING  CAMP  AND 
OTHER  STORIES,  A  PORTION  OF  THE 
TALES  OF  THE  ARGONAUTS,  ETC. 

3.  TALES  OF  THE  ARGONAUTS,  AND  EAST- 

ERN SKETCHES. 

4.  GABRIEL  CONROY. 

5.  STORIES  AND  CONDENSED  NOVELS. 

6.  FRONTIER  STORIES. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


Thi3  book  is  DUE  on  the  last 
date  stamped  below. 


10M-1 1-50(2^5)470 


THE  L1BSART 
OF 

LOS  ANGEf 


/ 


